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/ 

THE 


MONARCH OF MILLIONS ; 


OR, THE RISE AND FALL OF THE 

o & j 


AMERICAN EMPIRE... ' " * 




BY / 

GROSVENOR WILSON. 

'{ 





THE NEELY COMPANY, 

NEW YORK. CHICAGO. LONDON. 

L. 


55728 


Library 6f Conor's** 

I ■» Copies Received 

OCT 3 1900 

Cofjnghl •ntry 

vV^tvo* 

StCONO COPY. 

Df Uvtred to 

OROtfi DIVISION, 

nr. T 26 1900 



Copyright, 1900, 
by 

JOHN G. WILSON. 
All Rights Reserved. 


DEDICATED TO 


WILLIAM H. KISSELBURGH, Jr., 

AS A SLIGHT TOKEN OF AFFECTION AND HIGH ESTEEM 

FOR 

AN AMERICAN PATRIOT. 


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IN LIEU OF PREFACE. 


The chronicler of the momentous events of 
the summer of 1950 wrote what he fondly deemed 
to be a very fine, eloquent and philosophical pref- 
ace. A Judicious Friend to whom it was sub- 
mitted promptly consigned it to the waste-basket 
and handed to the chronicler in its place the fol- 
lowing curious document, which has just (March 
1st, 1951) come to light among the literary re- 
mains of a Distinguished Statesman who died in 
1905. The document so found bears date 
of April 1st, 1900. The name of the deceased 
Statesman is withheld at present for family rea- 
sons. His remarkable utterances, shorn of much 
extraneous matter, and sternly condensed, are 
herewith put in print: 

“In this spring of 1900 I see no hope for the 
continuance of the Republic of our fathers. 

“Americans have forsaken their ancient ideals 
and are blindly worshipping material success. 

“The worst, the grossest, the most ignoble of 
despotisms is the despotism of the dollar. 


v 


In Lieu of Preface. 


“The so-called trusts sit in the seat of power. 

“A government, republican in name but im- 
perial in fact, will respect republican forms only 
so long as is prudent. 

“When a man combining great wealth and 
great genius comes to the front he will find a 
nation trained to and ready for his yoke. 

“A nation gets such governors as it deserves. 
Woe to the American people if they do not soon 
awake to the peril which threatens them from 
their own apathy! 

“Caesar absorbed Rome, Napoleon absorbed 
France; is it reserved for America to be absorbed 
by some multi-millionaire? 

“I fear so. 

“Wealth now rules through political puppets. 
It will soon discard them. 

“I, as one of those puppets, write this secretly. 
I dare not publish it. 

“I should lose my job.” 

Events have proved that these words were of 
a singularly Delphic or prophetic character. His- 
tory tells us that the Distinguished Statesman 
did not lose his job. Further comment seems to 
be unnecessary. 

Washington, 1951. 


VI 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER I. 

The morning of Saturday, July the first, 1950, 
broke over Washington in a sweet summer splen- 
dor that augured well for the success of the im- 
perial anniversary. It was exactly one year since 
the illustrious Vangold had assumed the office 
and title of Emperor of the Americans. His 
sway extended over the entire North American 
continent, the Hawaiian Islands, the Bermudas, 
the West Indies, Cuba, the Philippines and 
American China. More than five hundred mill- 
ion subjects paid taxes to this great potentate, 
beside whom Caesar and Napoleon, his proto- 
types, seemed but pigmies. 

Washington bloomed in holiday gayety. Every- 
where fluttered the imperial flag, with its golden 
dollars strewn on a silver background, at once 
an emblem and an inspiration. On all the public 
7 


The Monarch of Millions. 


buildings and on many of the private ones rose 
the standard of the Golden Hog, a work which 
made its sculptor immortal. This beautiful ani- 
mal, selected after elaborate discussion as the 
national symbol, was represented in an erect atti- 
tude, with the head drooping and the snout 
apparently foraging for provender ; but the chief 
artistic beauty lay in its tail. This miracle of 
genius was curled, as are most hogs' tails, but 
with a curl so aggressive, so suggestive, so im- 
posing, as to waken the liveliest emotion in the 
beholder. Wonderful magic of art ! 

To the east of the Capitol lay the Field of 
Celebration, a park set aside for the pleasures of 
the nobility. About io o'clock two girls entered 
the field. One was Aurea, the other Xantha. 
Their dress indicated high rank. Both wore the 
flowing draperies of the period, falling from the 
bust in graceful and divided folds that allowed 
perfect freedom to the legs, without permitting 
more than an occasional glimpse of delicate 
silken hosiery. Their arms and breasts were 
bare, but almost covered with jewels ; coronets of 
pearls nestled among the Grecian coils of their 
hair. Aurea was dark, tall and confident ; Xantha 
fair, small and diffident. Being girls they 
talked. 


8 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“I am so afraid, dear, I shall make some blun- 
der, ” said Xantha. 

“Nonsense,” replied her companion. 

“Papa has been rich such a short time that I 
scarcely even know the duties of a Maid of 
Money.” 

“But you have travelled?” 

“A little.” 

“Well,” said Aurea, “our duties are precisely 
the same as those of Maids of Honor at other 
courts. The Emperor has simply substituted 
money for honor.” 

“That seems easy,” Xantha remarked. 

“It is easy; we attend on the person of his 
imperial daughter, the Princess Sapphire — the 
duties are light, the costumes provided free of 
cost — ” 

But Aurea stopped abruptly, and whispering 
softly to her companion, “Imitate me,” sank 
quickly into a kneeling attitude. 

A being — surely it were profanation to de- 
scribe her as a mere girl — a being, then, entered 
the Field. Recall, if you can, the loveliest dream 
you have ever had; summon from your memory 
immortal lines wherein poets have sung of Helen, 
of Cleopatra, of Heloise; see again the faces 
Raphael drew, the forms that Titian imaged; do 
9 


The Monarch of Millions. 


all this and you will begin to have before you 
some faint, pale shadow of the beautiful, the 
glorious, the imperial Princess Sapphire. Clothed 
in dazzling white, and crowned with several mill- 
ion dollars’ worth of diamonds, she advanced 
towards the prostrate Maids. But happiness did 
not dance in those mysterious gray eyes ; there 
was even a melancholy drooping twist to the 
Greek knot of her golden locks. 

“Rise, my Maids,” she said to the kneeling 
girls; “homage does me no good this morning. 
I should prefer sympathy.” The Princess spoke 
with a slight New York accent. 

“Your Imperial Richness is sad ?” asked Aurea. 

“Sad is no name for it. I am miserable.” 

“What,” said Xantha; “you, the richest of 
all?” 

“Alas,” responded the Princess, “I suffer from 
a grief before which money is powerless !” 

“That hardly seems possible,” murmured the 
innocent Xantha. 

“Quite so,” said the Princess, “but neverthe- 
less such is the case.” She relapsed into pensive 
and unusual silence, and rapidly scanned the 
horizon through a small field-glass that she car- 
ried. This astronomical diversion, however, 
appeared to afford her no relief, for, letting the 

to 


The Monarch of Millions. 


glass drop with an impatient gesture, she flung 
herself upon a convenient garden seat and ap- 
peared bored. 

“Xantha, dear/’ whispered Aurea, “leave us 
alone. As an experienced Maid of Money I am 
not unused to this sort of thing.” 

Xantha departed. 

Aurea approached the Princess. As she did 
so she took from her girdle one of those small 
electric sooth-alls which have so completely su- 
perseded the smelling-salts and similar devices 
of by-gone days. 

“Useless, Aurea,” said the Princess, rising. 
“I am not to be soothed. I am electrically be- 
yond it. But I must, I will, have a confidant.” 

“Dear mistress,” responded Aurea, “you know 
I am devoted to you completely.” 

“Last night, as I was about to retire,” said the 
Princess, “I leaned upon my newest telescope, 
the one with a three-thousand-mile range. 
Chance, or was it fate? prompted me to look 
through it. In the middle of the field of obser- 
vation, not far from Chicago, I saw an old-fash- 
ioned balloon. Strange and antiquated it looked 
among the swift air-ships, yet touched with the 
romance of the past. It interested me.” 


a 


The Monarch of Millions. 


"I’ve seen one in the museum,” interrupted 
Aurea. 

“Bother the museum!” retorted the Princess, 
with a slight touch of exasperation. “This was 
a real balloon. Below it hung a car, and in that 
car — O Aurea! I cannot attempt to describe 
him.” 

“Him?” queried Aurea. 

“Certainly him,” answered the Princess. 
“What do you suppose T need a confidant for ? 
O, Aurea, his face, his form! Simply divine. 
And the expression with which he seemed to look 
right at me — simply thrilling. My nerve bar- 
ometer had for some time indicated an area of 
high amatory emotion. At that moment it ex- 
ploded.” 

“Too much pressure?” asked Aurea. 

“Doubtless,” replied the Princess. “O, Aurea! 
it must be love. Love, as we know now, is purely 
a nervous atfection, an exalted excitement of the 
sensatory system. The poets and novelists of 
old who wrote of the heart were idealists grop- 
ing blindly in the obscurity of ignorance. Science 
produces the nerve-barometer and we emerge 
into the light of truth.” 

“True, indeed,” said Aurea. “But what be- 
came of the balloon ?” 

\2 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“Alas,” said the Princess, “the night grew 
cloudy and hid it from my sight. This morning 
it is not to be seen. But it — and he — must be 
near me for my nerves are actually responsive. 
If I touch anything metallic I do not merely 
sparkle, I positively blaze.” 

Aurea here started back with a slight excla- 
mation of terror. 

“Fear not,” the Princess went on, “I am wear- 
ing my invisible glass chemiloon — I am quite 
non-conductive. Now, dearest, you know all.” 

“You have my deepest sympathy,” said Aurea. 

“Sympathy is all very well in its way,” sighed 
the Princess; “but I crave something more tan- 
gible. Would you object, dear, to leaving me 
alone? Solitude, perhaps, is the proper thing.” 

“I will go at once,” replied Aurea. “But re- 
member it is nearly noon, when the imperial 
fetes begin.” 

“I shall be notified,” said the Princess. “I 
have about me my portable telephone.” 

With a deep reverence Aurea left the Field. 
The Princess Sapphire was alone. 


The Monarch of Millions. 


i 


CHAPTER II. 

It grew to noon. The sun blazed bounteously, 
but did not heat the Field, for at properly selected 
points the electric cold-wave towers poured forth 
refreshing breezes, never allowing the tempera- 
ture to rise above eighty degrees. From all direc- 
tions swift air-ships were converging upon 
Washington, their warning trumpets ringing out 
faint aerial melody which blended with the 
strains of approaching but yet distant bands. 

The Field commanded a fine view of the Capi- 
tol, which noble structure is worthy a descrip- 
tion. The old Capitol had not been removed. 
Instead it was transformed. Around it from 
base to dome had been erected a spendid cover- 
ing or shell illustrative of the power and glory 
of wealth. The columns now were of gold and 
silver, the friezes crusted with jewels of enor- 
mous size, which were arranged so as to make 
pictures or allegories of the triumph of money. 
The famous victories of the railroad lords, the 
oil lords, the coal lords, the wheat lords, the 
sugar lords and other heroes of the epoch were 
\ 4 


The Monarch of Millions. 


fittingly commemorated. Above all rose the 
great dome, a marvel of burnished brilliance, 
flashing back the sunlight with dazzling effect. 
Crowning the dome was a colossal golden statue 
of the Emperor, leaning over a ticker, from 
which the tape appeared to be running. In the 
monarch’s left hand was a telegraph pad, in the 
right a pencil. It was plain from his attitude 
that he was about to write an order. Nothing 
more characteristic could be imagined; nothing 
more life-like could be conceived. In this grand- 
iose work American art of the twentieth century 
reached its apex and explained itself. 

But on the morning of which we are writing 
our lovely Sapphire has no eyes for glorious 
scenes. She is absorbed in thoughts that be- 
wilder her. That she, the daughter of Vangold, 
the heiress of limitless millions, should be sigh- 
ing for something unprocurable seems absurd. 
Yet such is the case. What is she to do? She 
stamps her little foot in impotent rage, and her 
eyes are dimmed with tears. O, the pity of it! 
The first tears of royal wealth, the sad discov- 
ery that even the very rich are part and parcel of 
poor humanity. Dear reader of gentle feelings, 
must you not commiserate the unfortunate girl? 

But suddenly mastering her emotion she stands 

\5 


The Monarch of Millions. 


erect, defiant, and with a vague, sweeping ges- 
ture of her superb arms, breaks forth into im- 
promptu blank verse. These mysterious lines 
seem to be forced from her by some impelling 
psychic power: 

“O force invisible that szmys the world , 
Surcharge my veins with lightning, till my heart 
Becomes a magnet of the highest grade 
With power to draw tozvard me him I love. ,f 

The melodious cadence of her voice dies down, 
her eyes shine with strange radiance ; her parted 
lips, her heaving bosom, her rapt attitude, all 
betray a condition of intense hypnotic effort. 
Above the line of her glass chemiloon it is even 
possible to detect little sparks dancing like fire- 
flies amid the jewels on her breast. When, hark! 
the sound of hurried footsteps, a youth bounds 
upon the Field and runs toward her with arms* 
outstretched; she sees him, she knows him; he 
clasps her in a close embrace, their lips meet in 
a delicious kiss, at once a climax and a promise, 
and once again for two enraptured mortals be- 
gins the enchanted drama that is played in the 
springtime of youth. 

Sapphire was the first to regain self-control. 


t6 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Gently withdrawing from arms that were loth 
to surrender her, she murmured, “Who are you?” 

“Your adorer,” replied the youth. 

“Of course,” replied the Princess, “that is self- 
evident. But how did you find me?” 

“I cannot say,” answered the youth. “I first 
saw your face in a dream about a month ago.” 

“And I first saw you in a telescope last night,” 
said the Princess. 

“Since that dream,” the youth went on, “the 
sight of you has forever haunted me. In my 
distant forest home I have heretofore been count- 
ed a pretty fair shot, but latterly I have missed 
everything.” 

“How strange,” she whispered. 

“Not at all strange,” said the youth. “It is 
impossible to take good aim when you see a 
lovely face dancing along the barrel of your 
rifle.” 

“I suppose it is difficult,” said Sapphire. 
“What is your name?” 

“Demos.” 

“Is that your given or your surname?” 

“My only name.” 

“How singular,” said Sapphire. “Where do 
you come from?” 

“From Jones River, Alaska.” 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“What a long way off. And you came all the 
way by balloon ?” 

“Yes.” 

“And solely to seek me?” 

“No,” said Demos. “I cannot say truthfully 
that that was my sole purpose, though no doubt 
it* was the more important one. In fact I have, 
perhaps, a sacred mission to perform.” 

“O Demos,” she exclaimed ; “a mission ? Then 
you are not rich?” 

“Certainly not,” replied Demos. “My net as- 
sets are a balloon, one rifle, the clothes I stand in, 
a stout heart and a pair of strong arms.” 

“O horrible !” she cried. 

“Horrible?” he echoed; “isn’t that a rather 
strong way of putting it?” 

“I cannot make it too strong,” she answered. 
Then, examining him more closely than she had 
yet done, she said: “Demos, from your costume 
I am led to the terrible suspicion that you are a 
plebeian.” 

Demos was a tall, handsome youth of about 
twenty-two or three, with dark eyes and hair 
and of a graceful, manly carriage ; but his attire 
was certainly far from fashionable. In fact, it 
was neither more nor less than the dress of a 
nineteenth century cow-boy. A wide sombrero, 


The Monarch of Millions. 


a flannel shirt, a loose sack coat, trousers tucked 
into high boots made up a costume certainly pic- 
turesque enough, but wholly inelegant. 

At the word “plebeian” a puzzled expression 
had come across Demos’ face. 

“Plebeian ?” he said. “I don’t understand.” 

“And O !” said Sapphire, “your very presence 
here is dangerous! The Field of Celebration is 
reserved for the nobility. There are severe pen- 
alties for trespassers.” 

“Nobility?” said the yet more puzzled Demos. 

“Fly, dearest, fly, before the Emperor comes,” 
she cried imploringly. 

“Emperor?” he exclaimed. “Ah! I under- 
stand ! And my mission must be fulfilled !” 

“O, what is your mission?” asked Sapphire. 

“To restore freedom to the American people,” 
he answered. 

At this remarkable statement Sapphire re- 
coiled as if wounded. 

“But you don’t know who I am,” she said. 

“The goddess of my dreams !” he replied. 

“Undoubtedly,” said she, “but I am also the 
Princess Sapphire, the only child of the Emperor 
Vangold.” 

Demos in his turn experienced a severe shock. 
He looked at the lovely girl before him with 

\9 


The Monarch of Millions. 


mournful tenderness, but with unflinching resolu- 
tion. The word “dreadful” escaped his lips. 

“But surely,” she went on, "now that you 
know me your mission can be abandoned ?” 

“Impossible !” said Demos; “a vow to my 
father—” 

“O,” she interupted, “he will release you.” 

“Out of the question,” said Demos. “My 
father is dead.” 

Sapphire was silent for a moment. Then with 
simple, royal frankness she went to Demos and 
threw herself upon his breast. He felt her arms 
about his neck, the wind blew little strands of 
her shining hair upon his face, her great gray 
eyes looked up into his, ardent, glowing, intoxi- 
cating. In the boldness of perfect innocence she 
became adorable temptation. 

“Demos,” she murmured, “am I not worth 
some sacrifice?” 

“O, but my honor !” he cried, brokenly. 

“Honor?” she repeated, with a little puzzled 
gesture, “cannot that matter be arranged finan- 
cially?” 

At this critical point of their interview the lov- 
ers were interrupted. Unnoticed by them a man 
had entered the Field. From the splendor of his 
costume he was evidently a personage of great 

20 


The Monarch of Millions. 


dignity. He was a large, fair, fat man of per- 
haps fifty years, with a broad, chubby, good-na- 
tured face, with twinkling eyes that glanced 
kindly enough from the little valleys of flesh in 
which they were set; a nose of the pug variety, 
and a wide mouth revealing powerful teeth. He 
was smooth shaven, with the exception of short, 
close-cut side-whiskers that enhanced the square 
effect of his appearance. Upon his head was a 
species of helmet surmounted with a small pig. 
He wore a close-fitting coat, reaching to the hips, 
and covered with fantastic embroidery ; tight 
breeches, silk stockings and pumps. Over all 
was hung a cloak of cloth of gold. He carried a 
staff or wand of office. This imposing being 
made hurriedly towards the lovers, with evi- 
dently hostile intentions. 

Laying a powerful but respectful hand on 
Sapphire’s shoulder, he said: "Surely her Im- 
perial Richness is forgetting herself.” 

At his touch the Princess started away from 
Demos in lovely, blushing, maidenly confusion. 

"And who are you, young man ?” said the offi- 
cial to Demos. 

"By what right do you question me?” asked 
Demos, haughtily. 

The official laughed. There are several kinds 

2 \ 


The Monarch of Millions. 


of laughter. A laugh may express pure merri- 
ment, or perfunctory assent, or incredulity, or 
positive scorn. The official laughter heard by 
Demos was decidedly of the scornful variety and 
aroused his wrath. He felt it necessary to as- 
sert himself. “Who are you?” he demanded. 

“I ?” said the official, with surprise ; “I am the 
Imperial Swineherd.” 

It was Demos’ turn to laugh, and he did so 
right heartily. The official stood aghast at this 
impertinence. 

“That is a strange title to me,” said Demos at 
last; “may I ask whose Imperial Swineherd?” 

Now the Swineherd was a man with a vast 
idea of his own importance. To meet a person 
to whom he was unknown was a new sensation. 
Being of a good-humored temperament, and 
really pitying Demos’ ignorance, he hastened to 
enlighten him. 

“Young man,” he said, “I am Imperial Swine- 
herd to His Supreme Richness, Vangold, Em- 
peror of the Americans. The poetic title of my 
office was suggested by the national symbol. I 
am next in dignity to the Emperor. In private 
life my name is Philip Porker. If you have any 
money to invest I shall be happy to give you a 
tip or two. My own immense fortune was accu- 
22 


The Monarch of Millions. 


mulated in the packing business in Chicago. 
Hence my family motto: “The Hog-pen is 
Mightier than the Sword.” He paused, but 
Demos remained silent, whereupon he said 
sharply: “Now, sir, your business here?” 

“I certainly have no money to invest,” said 
Demos, “and my business is not for your ear.” 

“No money?” cried Porker; “a plebeian? and 
on the Field of Celebration, insulting the Prin- 
cess? You are my prisoner, young man.” 

“He was not insulting me; how dare you!” 
exclaimed Sapphire. “Know, sir, that Demos is 
my psychic affinity.” 

“That is none of my affair,” replied Porker, 
stoutly. “It is plain that his very presence here 
is a violation of the law, and I must arrest him. 
For aught I know he may be a very dangerous 
character.” 

“Constructively, sir, I may be your prisoner,” 
said Demos; “but the practical question is, how 
are you going to take possession of me?” And 
as Demos looked very strong and athletic, there 
seemed to be pertinence to the point. 

“Young man,” said Porker, “I have but to 
touch a button and the Field will swarm with 
policemen.” 

“O yes, yes,” cried Sapphire. “You must 
25 


The Monarch of Millions. 

offer no resistance, Demos. I will go with you. 
No harm can come to you, for I will never de- 
sert you.” 

“So be it,” said Demos. “For your sake, dear- 
est, I will go peaceably. Now, sir,” turning to 
Porker, “I demand audience of your Emperor.” 

“And he shall have it,” said the Princess. 

“I shall simply discharge my duty by immur- 
ing you in a dungeon,” said Porker; “the Em- 
peror will attend to the rest. Follow me.” 

And with a stately stride, slightly marred by 
a tendency to waddle, Porker proceeded to leave 
the Field. Behind him walked the lovers, now 
thoughtful and silent, yet hand in hand, which 
afforded a certain consolation and aroused a cer- 
tain hope. 

The Field was left deserted, save for the but- 
terflies that flitted from flower to flower and the 
birds that cooed and babbled in the trees, while 
overhead loomed the great image of Vangold, 
scanning the endless tape that ran from the giant 
ticker. 


24 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER III. 

Twelve silvery strokes rang out from the im- 
perial clock. It was high noon. The countless 
air-ships, which had been hovering over the city 
like a flock of monstrous birds, dropped silently 
to their moorings, and Pennsylvania avenue was 
instantly packed with a dense throng of specta- 
tors. The imperial cortege was about to pass 
from the palace to the Field of Celebration. The 
palace occupied the site of the White House of 
former days, and fairly rivalled the Capitol in 
glittering splendor. 

The Maids of Money, each escorted by a No- 
ble, were the first to enter the Field, where they 
took up their station as a reception committee. 
The costume of the Nobles was similar to that of 
Porker, but not quite so rich and without the 
helmet. The guests of the day began to arrive. 
First came the Diplomatic Corps, headed by the 
Dean, the Ambassador from the Irish Republic. 
Then followed the Senators and Representatives 
of Imperial Congress and the Judges of the Im- 
25 


The Monarch of Millions. 


perial Court. As each body of dignitaries en- 
tered, the electric trumpets pealed out appro- 
priate strains of automatic music. Miscellaneous 
Nobles with their families completed the assem- 
blage. The event of the day was at hand. 

With slow and stately mien the Cabinet, the 
official family of the monarch, immediately pre- 
ceded his Supreme Richness. The Cabinet was 
composed of but four members, and each was 
styled a Secretary of State — one for Railroads 
and Mines, one for Grain and Pork, one for Oil 
and Cotton and one for Et cetera. 

The one for Et cetera attended to all business 
not strictly pertaining to either of his colleagues. 
As the Cabinet appeared the vast throng began 
singing the National Anthem, which short and 
expressive hymn we herewith preserve for pos- 
terity : 

Greatest, wisest, noblest, healthiest! 

Boom! boom! boom! 

All expressed in one word, wealthiest ! 

Boom! boom! boom! 

Peal, O joy-bells ! Wave, pavilions ! 

Boom ! boom ! boom ! 

God-like is the man of millions ! 

Boom ! boom ! boom ! 

26 


The Monarch of Millions. 


As the last sonorous “boom” triumphantly ex- 
ploded the Emperor entered, and every man and 
woman present fell flat upon his or her face. In 
an equally reverent spirit shall we attempt to 
portray the illustrious sovereign. 

Vangold was yet on the sunny side of fifty. He 
was of medium height, compactly built, and 
slightly inclined to stoutness. His features were 
ordinary in contour, and but for one most strik- 
ing peculiarity he would have been physically a 
very commonplace person. This peculiarity, 
however, singled him out from the rest of man- 
kind in a startling manner. He was of double 
complexion. The right half of him was ex- 
tremely dark, the left half a ruddy blond. 
Half his hair was black, half sandy red. One 
eye black, the other blue. Olive skin met pink- 
ish skin in the middle of his nose. His mus- 
tache also was parti-colored. Eminent physiol- 
ogists explained this phenomenon satisfactorily. 
He was the direct descendant of two great fam- 
ilies that first became conspicuous in the nine- 
teenth century. On his father’s side, of course, 
he was a Vangold ; on his mother’s side a Bilter- 
van. Paternally he inherited acquisitiveness and 
vast daring ; maternally, the capacity to hold and 
hoard. Each strain of blood was too vigorous to 
27 


The Monarch of Millions. 


mingle with the other and so retained its indi- 
viduality. Moreover, the physical phenomena 
were a faithful reflex of the imperial brain. In 
the monarch’s immense operations in the national 
markets there was always the felicitous blending 
of boldness and prudence, cunning and conser- 
vatism. Even those whom he despoiled were 
forced to admire, while those whom he was 
occasionally obliged to enrich fairly worshipped 
him. He was, of course, too great to inspire 
affection, to which he was quite indifferent; but 
as a producer of fear he was unrivalled. Indeed, 
in early days, before his advent to the throne, he 
had once or twice been styled a panic-breeder. 
To sum him up in a phrase, he was Napoleon 
tempered with Jonathan Wild. 

In honor of the day Vangold appeared in full 
regalia. Upon his head rested the imperial 
crown, a circlet composed of fifty-dollar gold 
pieces, supporting a double arch of priceless jew- 
els surmounted by a miniature locomotive, which 
could be detached and used as a smoking pipe — 
a pretty illustration of the monarch’s ingenuity 
and thrift. Up the middle of his coat ran em- 
broidery representing a telegraph pole, from 
which diamond wires radiated, circling and re- 
circling his person. The imperial breeches were 
28 


The Monarch of Millions. 


of silk, fashioned in perfect imitation of million- 
dollar bank bills, mixed together in artistic con- 
fusion. Purple stockings and scarlet pumps 
adorned the royal calves and feet. A cloak of 
spun gold hung from his shoulders with the im- 
perial arms emblazoned in the centre — a bull and 
a bear fighting over a lamb, with the motto : “I 
Feed on All.” His sceptre was severely plain, 
a simple rod of steel. An officer stood at his 
right carrying the Banner of the Dollars, another 
at his left uplifted the Standard of the Hog. 

At an affable sign from the sovereign the pros- 
trate Nobles rose to their feet, maintaining ex- 
pectant silence. Vangold beckoned to his Secre- 
taries, who approached him. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, “this is undoubtedly a 
holiday, but you know my maxim : 'Business be- 
fore pleasure, business after pleasure, business 
during pleasure — in brief, business/ ” 

A respectful murmur ran through the assem- 
blage. 

Turning to the Secretary for Railroads and 
Mines the Emperor asked, “What is the latest 
from Wall Street?” 

The Secretary, whose name was Pontmorgue, 
a pompous, florid gentleman, of ample propor- 
tions, hastened to reply: “Your Supreme Rich- 

29 


The Monarch of Millions. 

ness/’ he said, “there has been a sharp slump in 
National Electric.” 

“Hm!” said the Emperor thoughtfully. “I 
hold a large block of that myself. Wire at once 
that the Government will subsidize National 
Electric.” 

“Your commands shall be obeyed,” said the 
Secretary, hastily taking his leave. 

“And you, Mr. Blighter,” said Vangold, turn- 
ing to the Secretary for Grain and Pork, “what 
do you hear from Chicago?” 

“They have a howling boom on in wheat,” re- 
plied the Secretary. 

“Indeed,” said the Emperor. “Evidently they 
don’t know I’m short of it. Send out a crop 
report at once that the crops will be just double 
that of last year.” 

“Your commands shall be obeyed,” said the 
Secretary, as he disappeared. 

The Secretary for Oil and Cotton, a thin, as- 
cetic-looking person named Rockyfellow, was 
next interrogated. “What is the news,” asked 
Vangold, “from Pittsburg and the South?” 

“Your Supreme Richness,” said the Secretary, 
“things are very dull that way. There is no 
news worth repeating.” 


30 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“Hm !” said the Emperor. “Invent a few 
roorbacks and stir things up.” 

“Your commands shall be obeyed,” answered 
the Secretary, and he too departed. 

This left only the Secretary for Et cetera, a 
party by the name of Marcanna, of whom the 
Emperor made inquiry, “What have you to re- 
port, Mr. Secretary?” 

“Same old thing,” said the Secretary. “Com- 
plaints of excessive taxation, high cost of neces- 
saries — ” 

“Tut, tut!” interrupted Vangold; “I can't be 
bothered that way.” 

“Then you have no commands for me?” asked 
the Secretary. 

“No,” replied the Emperor. “Stay, yes — send 
telegrams at once distinctly contradicting all the 
telegrams of the other Secretaries.” 

“Your commands shall be obeyed,” said Mar- 
canna. 

And the last of the Cabinet vanished from the 
Field. 

“Thus,” said Vangold, with a majestic gesture 
and a pleasant wink, “thus I make my little com- 
binations.” 

And the whole vast crowd, in an ecstacy of 
admiration, cried “Hail, all hail !” 

3* 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“Thank you,” said the Emperor. “I appre- 
ciate your homage at its full value. But this is 
a holiday and we must all be merry.” In a 
practical, business-like way, he emitted an im- 
perial laugh. Convulsive cachinnation at once 
swept over the throng. 

“Very good, indeed !” said the monarch ; “that 
has a jovial sound. I suppose it is the correct 
thing. But where is our Master of Ceremonies, 
my Imperial Swineherd? My daughter, also, 
seems to be missing.” 

The words had scarcely left his lips when 
Sapphire, Porker and Demos entered the Field 
and came toward Vangold. At the sight of 
Demos the Emperor frowned heavily. The un- 
conventional attire, the youthful beauty, the 
sinewy strength of the young man affected him 
unpleasantly. He seemed to feel a vague shrink- 
ing, a dim apprehension, a something akin to 
fear. 

“Whom have we here?” he asked Porker. 

“A prisoner of state,” replied the Swineherd. 

“The man I love,” cried Sapphire, her eyes 
flashing with tender courage and loyal resolution. 

“Approach!” said Vangold to the youth. 

The young man stepped forward. His Su- 
preme Richness and Demos stood face to face. 

32 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER IV. 

“Bow, fellow,” said Porker to Demos. 

“I bow to nobody,” replied the young man, 
haughtily. 

“O, Demos, remember he is my father,” cried 
Sapphire. 

“On second thoughts I will bow to him in that 
capacity,” said Demos, suiting the action to the 
word. 

“What is your name?” asked Vangold. 

“Demos.” 

“Your occupation?” 

“First, adoring your daughter; second, ful- 
filling a sacred mission.” 

The Emperor looked relieved and smiled. 

“Never mind about the first,” he said, “but 
how about the second?” 

“My mission,” said Demos, calmly, “is to re- 
store freedom to the American people.” 

“What!” exclaimed the monarch, “you would 
overthrow me?” 


33 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“Since I find you an Emperor, your overthrow 
seems to be a necessary part of my programme.” 

“Tut ! tut !” said Vangold ; “the boy raves.” 

And a murmur of derision ran through the 
listening throng. 

“My young friend,” the Emperor went on, ad- 
dressing Demos, “you seem to be astonished to 
find me in the imperial office.” 

“I am,” said Demos; “I know nothing of 
American history since the year 1898.” 

“And how comes it that your education has 
been so sorely neglected?” asked the Emperor. 

“I will tell you,” answered Demos. “My 
father was a Populist.” 

“Ah,” interrupted the Emperor, “an extinct 
species.” 

“In the year 1898, despairing of the future of 
the Republic, he removed to the banks of the 
Jones River, Alaska. For twenty-five years he 
dwelt in solitary happiness, his sole occupation 
the deliverance of doleful prophecies. At the 
end of that period he felt the need of an audience 
and married an Indian. I was born. From my 
birth my father devoted me to liberty. He edu- 
cated me with the sole view of making me the 
savior of my country. As he had cut off all 
connection with civilization his information natu- 
34 


The Monarch of Millions. 


rally stopped at 1898. Upon his death-bed he 
swore me to my consecrated task. I am here. 
I find you, an Emperor; I observe many other 
strange things, from which I infer that my 
father’s forebodings were true and that Liberty 
has perished. As an honorable man I must keep 
my vow and seek to destroy your empire.” 

“O, Demos, Demos !” cried Sapphire ; “do you 
not see that you are breaking my heart?” 

“Not at all, dearest,” replied the young man; 
“the overthrow of an empire can be accomplished 
without much personal inconvenience to its rul- 
ers if they are open to reason.” 

Vangold yawned. His interest in Demos’ 
rather lengthy remarks had grown fainter and 
fainter as the young man proceeded. Turning 
in a bored way to Porker he asked: “What is 
the charge?” 

“Trespassing on forbidden ground.” 

“Let the customary sentence be imposed,” said 
the Emperor. 

“But, father !” cried the Princess ; “you do not 
understand. Demos is my accepted affinity. To 
punish him is to punish me !” 

“Nonsense,” said Vangold. 

“I implore your clemency,” beseeched Sap- 
phire ; but the monarch remained inflexible. 
35 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“Refuse it” — and she snatched the diamonds from 
her head — “refuse it and I will fling these dia- 
monds to the plebeians !” 

“Come, come,” said the Emperor in an alarmed 
tone, “it is really a serious matter with the dear 
child. I suppose she must be humored. Porker, 
will you kindly give notice that family affairs 
compel the postponement of festivities for a short 
while ?” 

At a few hurried words from Porker every 
phonograph on the Washington circuit gave voice 
to the monarch’s order. The occupants of the 
Field withdrew to a respectful distance from the 
imperial party. 

“Put those jewels back on your head, Sap- 
phire,” said Vangold, “and I will talk to the 
young man.” 

Sapphire hastened to obey. Glancing boldly 
at her father, shyly at Demos, a prey to con- 
flicting emotions which heightened her color and 
quickened her breathing, never was she more 
distractingly beautiful. Demos looked at her 
and felt his resolution ebbing. Suddenly he 
caught her hands in his, and at the touch his 
nerves quivered — a rosy mist seemed to spread 
before his eyes — a moment more and his vows 


3 6 


The Monarch of Millions. 


had been forgotten, his duties abandoned — but 
the metallic voice of Vangold broke the spell. 

“When you find it convenient to release my 
daughter/' said the Emperor, “we will have a 
word or two together." 

Angry at his own weakness, which we, how- 
ever, deem more than pardonable, Demos parted 
from the Princess almost rudely. 

“Young man," said Vangold, “I myself con- 
sider you an ordinary crank. You see I am 
frank. I always am. But my daughter takes 
an inexplicable interest in you. The vagaries of 
her sex are among the few things I cannot con- 
trol." 

“Sir, you insult me," interrupted Demos, 
hotly. 

“O, no ! I put the case plainly, that is all," re- 
plied the Emperor. “I never insult people ; it is 
Unprofitable. But to resume — my daughter is 
entitled to consideration. I will therefore deign 
to enlighten you as to our respective positions. 
Your father, no doubt, informed you of the finan- 
cial revolution which began some fifty odd years 
ago in the then Republic of the United States. 
About that period wealth first became formidable. 
The absorption of railroads, telegraphs, mines, 
oil-fields and other great interests by a compara- 
37 


,The Monarch of Millions. 


tively few individuals and corporations prog- 
ressed rapidly, until the nation contained but two 
classes, the very rich and the very poor. Real 
estate, of course, gradually passed into the hands 
of the former, until the man who owns his own 
house or the farmer his own farm is a rare ex- 
ception. The wonderful development of electri- 
cal inventions greatly facilitated the general 
movement by almost abolishing manual labor. 
Under the patent laws these inventions neces- 
sarily passed into the hands of a few corpora- 
tions. Now centralization of wealth means 
centralization of power. When the war with 
Spain occurred, in 1898, there followed an im- 
mense increase of commercial activity, which 
was further stimulated by the partition of 
China, of which we got a good share. Cubans, 
Porto Ricans, Filipinos and Chinamen of course 
had to pay high for the blessings of American 
rule, which, like all good things, is costly. The 
power of the great trusts grew rapidly and splen- 
didly. It reached beyond our old borders to 
such an extent as to compel Canada and Mexico 
to join us or be commercially choked to death. 
They of course submitted.” 

“Cowards,” exclaimed Demos. 

“O, no ; ” replied Vangold, “there is no coward- 

33 


The Monarch of Millions. 


ice in accepting the inevitable. All men do it. 
But to resume: Governing West Indians and 
Asiatics was not only highly profitable, but it 
was also an excellent training for governing 
Americans. The Trusts learned how to squeeze 
the last possible cent out of subjects and how to 
apply the process to citizens. It is of course an 
axiom that ‘who controls the pocket, controls the 
man.’ ” 

“Suppose your pocket is empty,” interjected 
Demos. 

“Then you are beyond the pale of considera- 
tion, answered the Emperor. “We have no use 
for those with empty pockets. Such persons 
have to efface themselves or be effaced.” 

“O, infamy!” cried Demos. 

“You are a very simple-minded youth,” replied 
Vangold. “I will thank you not to interrupt me. 
The first organ of the old government to become 
completely revolutionized was the Senate. Even 
in your father’s day it was already called the 
Plutocrats’ Club. The Lower House began 
gradually to fill with men of wealth. Presiden- 
tial elections became a mere question of the 
longest purse. The moneyed interests dictated 
judicial appointments. The old issues which 
were so fiercely argued out by our ancestors 
39 


The Monarch of Millions. 


faded from men’s minds. How to get rich and 
how to stay rich became and are now the only 
important questions. To get rich is compara- 
tively easy. To stay rich is more difficult. The 
solution of the problem was measurably found 
in the union and league of wealth. That union 
was perfected by the creation of the National 
Money Trust, a secret association to which all 
millionaires must in self-defence belong, and 
which controls, as it sees fit, by a majority vote 
of its executive council, about ninety-five per 
cent, of all the money in the country. The im- 
mense power of this trust, long exercised unoffi- 
cially, is now officially exercised under imperial 
forms. At last year’s elections we bought suf- 
ficient votes to abolish the old constitution and 
ordain the American Empire. One year ago to- 
day I became the first occupant of the throne. I 
will ask my friend Porker to give you a few de- 
tails of our form of government, which is very 
simple.” 

“With pleasure,” said Porker, much flattered 
at being called upon. “We are divided into 
Nobles and Plebeians. Every man possessed of 
one million or more is a Noble with his imme- 
diate family. All below that sum are Plebeians. 
Every man possessed of over twenty millions, but 
40 


The Monarch of Millions. 


less than fifty millions, is a Representative or 
Senator. Men of more than fifty millions, but 
less than five hundred millions, are Imperial 
Judges. Men of over five hundred millions com- 
pose the Cabinet and the Imperial Council, the 
latter body having no limit as to numbers. The 
richest of all but one is the Imperial Swineherd 
— your humble servant. The richest of all is the 
Emperor. All minor offices are sold for cash at 
auction to Nobles only.” 

“Admirably and lucidly explained,” said the 
Emperor. “You see under our system there can 
be no mistakes. You make a million and become 
a Noble. You lose it and you are again a ple- 
beian. No personal titles are used; only official 
ones. As for freedom, we are the freest of the 
free. Any man can become Emperor by making 
more than any other man. I will acknowledge, 
though, that when the imperial office is in the 
hands of the right party it is a difficult job to get 
ahead of him.” 

“An exceedingly difficult job,” remarked 
Porker. 

“Now, young man,” resumed Vangold, “ad- 
mitting for the sake of argument that my daugh- 
ter is smitten with you, you will see how ridicu- 


The Monarch of Millions. 


lous it is for you to aspire to her unless you have 
at least a million. How are you fixed ?” 

“I do not own anything,” said Demos. 

“So I judged/' said the Emperor. “Young 
men with whom one’s daughters are smitten sel- 
dom do. But I am a clement person. Strange 
to say, certain natural emotions survive in me. 
For example, I love Sapphire, and I am willing 
to stretch a point to accommodate her. I will 
give you until the first of August in which to 
accumulate a million. Do so, and you shall have 
Sapphire. Fail to do so, and I shall feel it neces- 
sary to remove you by the latest electric process.” 

“O, father!” cried Sapphire. 

“Enough,” said Vangold. “I have gone a good 
way already.” 

“Young man,” he continued, addressing De- 
mos, “pledge me your word to appear before me 
on the first day of August to render an account 
of yourself, and you may meanwhile enjoy per- 
fect liberty.” 

“There seems to be no impropriety in that,” 
said Demos. “I pledge you my word.” 

“I might add,” remarked the Emperor, “that 
in these days of air-ships and electric communi- 
cations escape is practically impossible.” 

The youth frowned haughtily as he replied: 

42 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“There need be no mention of escape. My word 
is unbreakable.” 

“I should prefer bail,” was the imperial com- 
ment, “but of course you cannot procure it. 
Porker, let the festivities proceed.” 

“One moment, please,” said Demos. “I con- 
sider it only proper to inform you that I shall 
not devote the month you grant me to money- 
making, but to your downfall.” 

“Tut, tut,” answered the monarch, quite affa- 
bly; “that doesn’t worry me in the least. You 
have no idea how many have tried it before you. 
The county poor-houses are full of them.” 

Vouchsafing no further remarks, and either 
not noticing or not caring that his daughter did 
not follow him, the Emperor, with Porker, moved 
off to start the festal rites. Again the clear 
voices of the phonographs were heard proclaim- 
ing now the beginning of the celebration. From 
a thousand electric automata arose the stirring 
strains of the imperial march, everywhere flut- 
tered the Banner of the Dollars, everywhere glit- 
tered the Standard of the Hog. Amid the ser- 
vile homage of his subjects Vangold walked 
slowly through the Field, calm, confident, tri- 
umphant, panoplied in the power of his countless 
millions, secure in his ability to buy and sell. 

43 


The Monarch of Millions. 


O, kings and warriors of old ! Ye who swayed 
with the sword and the cannon, whose glory was 
measured by the death and devastation that ye 
spread, how small, how dwarfish ye appear be- 
side the illustrious Vangold ! Wisdom, bravery, 
genius, patriotism, all the virtues heretofore 
prized by men, he estimated simply at their mar- 
ket value. His system was built upon the primal 
instinct of human nature, the mainspring of all 
action, the desire to have and hold. Mighty 
monarch! On this, thy festal day, the world 
salutes thee. 


44 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER V. 

“Come/’ said Sapphire, leading Demos from 
the Field by a private exit, where she thought 
they could be alone. They passed through a 
small gate which opened on an enclosed pathway 
leading to the palace, and which was Tor the sole 
use of the imperial household. As she expected, 
no one was in sight. The reaction which follows 
intense excitement now overcame the Princess. 
She grew pale and weak, and but for Demos’ 
supporting arm she would have fallen. Alarmed 
at this distressing sight, Demos clasped her to 
his breast with confused terms of endearment 
and passionate protestations of devotion. Nor 
did he stop at words, but administered that other 
form of consolation which young lips so aptly 
practice. Under this vigorous treatment Sap- 
phire revived and even returned his kisses. For 
a few rapt moments the lovers forgot all save the 
bliss of companionship. 

“O,” cried Demos, “if it could be thus for- 
ever!” 


45 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“It can be so if you will,” murmured the Prin- 
cess. “You have but to make a million. That 
cannot be so difficult. Father habitually does it.” 

“That is not the point,” said Demos gloomily. 
“I am a consecrated person.” 

“And you will pursue your mission ?” 

“I must.” 

“And sacrifice me?” 

“No ; I must find a way to fulfill my vow and 
win you at the same time.” 

“Impossible,” said Sapphire, sadly. “My 
father is all-powerful ; nothing can prevail 
against him.” 

“Then I must fall, but at least I can fall hard.” 

“O, Demos, there is a way out of it. Let us 
fly ! Take once more to your balloon. I will go 
with you.” 

“Dearest,” said Demos, “I could never consent 
to such a plan. It would be dishonorable. More- 
over, it is impracticable, as my balloon is pledged 
as collateral at my boarding-house.” 

“But I have ample funds.” 

“No, no,” interrupted the young man, haught- 
ily, “I could not accept the money of your 
father.” 

“Then all is lost !” cried Sapphire, wildly. “O, 
is there no help?” 


46 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“There is,” said a hoarse voice at her elbow, 
and a man emerged from behind a tree where he 
had evidently been listening to the conversation 
of the lovers. 

It was impossible to guess his age. He was 
short, fat and dirty. A straggling, frowsy beard 
covered his face up to the eyes, which were small 
and squinting. One jaw was misshapen, as if 
pulled awry. His hair needed cutting and hung 
over his neck in greasy wisps. He wore a peaked 
cap, a green blouse, striped trousers and heavy 
boots. No suggestion of linen was visible. He 
was an unclean thing. The lovers instinctively 
shrank from him. 

Not at all put out by the impression he pro- 
duced he took from his mouth a huge pipe he 
was smoking and repeated, “There is help, and I 
am the party to apply to.” 

“What are you?” asked Demos, 

“I am an Anarchist.” 

The lovers shuddered. The Anarchist grinned. 
He enjoyed their disgust. 

“I make my headquarters in such lager-beer 
saloons as provide free lunch. The only work I 
ever do is to manufacture bombs for other fel- 
lows to use. When they use them I get under 
the bed.” 


47 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“Why are you an Anarchist ?” asked Demos. 

“Because I haven’t got a cent.” 

“May I ask your name ?” 

“Bill Boneyard, the terror of tyrants.” 

“O, heavens,” cried Sapphire, “the editor of 
the Dry heat ?” 

“The same.” 

Demos, of course, had never heard of the 
Dryheat or its renowned editor. He naturally 
felt a certain curiosity regarding him. 

“Would you object to favoring me with your 
principles?” he inquired. 

“Certainly not. I want liberty — ample, limit- 
less liberty. Liberty to smash, to burn, to kill 
those who won’t support me. I loathe labor, be- 
cause nature gifted me with a lazy temperament ; 
I despise law, because judges invariably rule 
against me; I hate property with a deadly, un- 
dying hatred, because I own nothing.” 

“You hold very radical views,” said Demos. 

“I do. So do you.” 

“I?” asked Demos. 

’*Yes. You wish to overthrow the government. 

I am perennially in the same conditon. Accept 
my aid.” 

“O, Demos,” cried the Princess, “spurn his 
offer.” 


48 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“Dearest/’ said Demos, “have I the right, in 
the peculiar circumstances of my position, to 
spurn any offer ?” 

No one noticed that Aurea had entered the 
pathway and joined the group. She now gently 
touched the Princess. 

“What, Aurea, you here?” asked Sapphire. 

“O, dearest Princess,” replied Aurea, “a series 
of thrills such as you spoke of this morning are 
making my heart go pitty-pat, pitty-pat.” 

“Then, alas, dear, you too love.” 

“Yes,” said Aurea, indicating the Anarchist, 
“him.” 

“Me? What luck!” said Bill. 

“O, impossible!” said Demos. 

“Quite impossible,” assented the Princess ; 
“look at him.” 

“Pm not the first Anarchist that young women 
have fallen in love with,” growled Bill. 

“Moreover,” said Aurea, plaintively, “love 
does not depend upon one’s outside.” 

“In a general way that may be true, dear,” said 
Sapphire. “But such an outside!” 

“I shall certainly try to stifle the feeling,” said 
Aurea, “but I fear it will be too much for me.” 

“Just let me know when you have got through 


49 


The Monarch of Millions. 

trying,” sneered the Anarchist, with a thor- 
oughly repulsive leer. 

“But, dearest Princess, forgive me,” said 
Aurea, “I was sent to find you. The Emperor 
commands your instant attendance at the cele- 
bration. Your part of the programme is 
reached.” 

“O, I cannot go,” cried Sapphire. 

“My love,” said Demos, “I think you should. 
You have at present certain official duties to per- 
form. I think it is the correct thing to attend to 
them.” 

“Do you really think so ?” 

“That is my way of looking at it,” replied 
Demos. 

“Your way is probably the right way. I will 
go,” said Sapphire. “When shall we meet again ?” 

“At the first possible moment.” 

Sapphire removed a small portable telephone 
from her girdle. “Take this,” she said, giving it 
to Demos. “I have the duplicate at home. They 
are magnetized identically alike. You can call 
me up at any time, wherever you may be.” 

“O, wonderful!” cried Demos; “without 
wires ?” 

“Certainly,” said Sapphire, “wires were dis- 
pensed with long ago.” 


50 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“Sweet gage of love,” said Demos, fondly 
kissing the telephone, “never will I part with it.” 

“I should think not,” observed the Princess, 
as he carefully hooked it in a button-hole. 

Then came a moment of mingled agony and 
delight when the lovers said their first good-bye. 
The Anarchist wished to indulge in similar fare- 
wells with Aurea, but that young lady informed 
him that she was still trying to stifle her feelings 
and could, therefore, permit no familiarities. The 
last good-bye was said, the last kiss exchanged. 
The Princess and Aurea re-entered the Field, 
while Demos and the Anarchist scaled the wall 
of the pathway and made toward the city. 

Demos mused over the events of the day, of 
the mighty empire he had invaded single-handed, 
of the impossible task set him by the Emperor, 
of the yet more impossible task set him by himself, 
but more than all of a gracious face with radiant 
eyes that beamed affection, and rose-red lips that 
murmured hope. Dwelling on these thoughts he 
felt his courage rise, and he marched on the city, 
that lay beneath him, with the air of a conqueror. 
The sound of his companion’s rasping voice 
roused him from his reverie. 

“Can you lend me a quarter?” asked the An- 
archist. 

5t 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“No, I can’t.” 

“Broke?” was the laconic question. 

“Broke,” was the laconic answer. 

The Anarchist said no more. It seemed to 
Demos that a rude hand had brushed the charm- 
ing visions of his fancy, that the gay summer 
sunlight was blotted with a huge stain. He 
looked about him and above him. He stood in 
the shadow of the image of Vangold. 

At that moment the tiny bell of his telephone 
rang. He lifted the instrument to his ear and 
heard the voice of Sapphire say, “I love you.” 


52 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER VI. 

The boarding-house at which Demos had 
chanced to put up was a very modest place, situ- 
ated over a roomy lager-beer saloon. It and the 
saloon were kept by an elderly widow named 
Emma Liebotshoener. She was the relict of a dis- 
tinguished Anarchist who had amassed quite a 
comfortable fortune catering to the thirst of his 
co-patriots, and she retained a sentimental re- 
spect for the departed’s opinions, which made all 
Anarchists feel at home beneath her roof. When 
Demos entered, accompanied by Bill, the 
strangely assorted pair received a warm welcome 
from the hostess and a prompt invitation to a 
free lunch. Urged on by Bill, who set a stalwart 
example, Demos did full justice to the meal, and 
thus invigorated, felt ready to discuss the future. 

The plan of campaign which he unfolded to 
the Anarchist was very simple. It was to preach 
the propaganda of liberty far and wide, to ap- 
peal to the patriotic instincts which he was sure 
were not dead, but only dormant, in the popular 
heart. These views were altogether too mild to 
53 


The Monarch of Millions. 

suit Bill, who dilated warmly on the efficacy of 
dynamite, and who generously offered to furnish 
a gross of bombs to be exploded by Demos at 
fitting times and places. To these suggestions, 
however, the young man turned a deaf ear. 

“My idea,” he said, “is to convince the nation 
that liberty is preferable to riches.” 

“What can be more convincing,” asked the 
Anarchist, “than blowing up millionaires?” 

“Possibly so, to those blown up,” said Demos, 
“but you could blow up only a limited number, 
and the great majority unblown would, I think, 
be rather exasperated than otherwise.” 

“Bosh!” cried Bill. “Keep your explosions 
going at regular and stated intervals, according 
to advertisement, and you’ll have ’em scared to 
death in a week or two.” 

“It does not seem to occur to you,” said Demos, 
“that before the expiration of the week or two 
some powerful person, let us say a policeman, 
might lay hands on the exploder!” 

“Ha, ha!” laughed Bill, “doesn’t it occur to 
me? That’s the very reason I never explode 
myself. But I’m always ready to give my im- 
moral support to others.” And in his enthu- 
siasm he accidentally drank a glass of beer which 
the landlady had set before Demos. 

54 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Unshaken by Bill’s eloquence, the youth deterv 
mined to follow his own plan, for the present at 
least. The first thing to do was to obtain pos- 
session of his balloon. The widow was called 
in and the matter talked over. Now widows, 
however elderly, are proverbially susceptible to 
manly charms, and it was soon arranged that 
Demos should be allowed to take his balloon, 
with the understanding that he would settle his 
small account when convenient. She declined 
peremptorily the offer of a promissory note with 
Bill’s endorsement, but perhaps this was because 
Bill had suggested making the note for a slightly 
larger sum than the amount due, the balance to 
be received in cash. 

Demos was now ready to start. He took leave 
of the Anarchist, shaking him warmly by the 
hand, and saying: “You will understand, of 
course, that I utterly abhor you and your shock- 
ing views, but I realize that a crisis may arise 
when even your detestable methods may be salu- 
tary. I sincerely hope not. In any event, I will 
see you later.” 

“As to abhorrence, I’m used to it,” replied the 
Anarchist; “it cuts no figure with me. Fire 
ahead ; you’ll come to my shop sooner or later. 
Vive la Commune! Hoch die Anarchie! Hur- 
55 


The Monarch of Millions. 


rah for dynamite!” Thus he roared his poly- 
glot adieux to Demos, whose balloon shot grace- 
fully upwards. 

Leaving Bill to his pipe and such malt liquor 
as may chance his way, we will follow the flight 
of the balloon. 

Demos’ trip from Alaska, owing to weather 
conditions, had been at an altitude which afforded 
no opportunity for inspecting the country. He 
was now delighted to find that he could make 
good headway at a moderate height. He shaped 
his course north by east, bound for New York, 
and gave himself up to the pleasures of observa- 
tion. One thing immediately struck him — the 
entire absence of smoke. He did not know that 
the generation of heat by electric process had 
superseded the use of coal. As he swept over 
mile after mile of farm lands he was astonished 
to see scarcely anyone at work. In fact, each 
farm was fitted with an electric plant, and opera- 
tions were carried on from a central station. 
Plowing, sowing, reaping and all other pro- 
cesses were conducted by the simple means of 
pressing the appropriate button. Weather plants 
were also in operation, producing as needed the 
requisite amount of snow, rain, heat or cold. It 
was harvest time, and on farm after farm Demos 
56 


The Monarch of Millions. 


witnessed the automatic gathering of the crops, 
while the farmer and his family in gay summer 
finery indulged in out-door pastimes. 

“How beautiful it would be if they were free, ,, 
mused the youth, and his heart swelled with rage 
at the thought of Vangold, that spider in the 
centre of his enormous web, fattening on a myr- 
iad flies. 

Railroads ran in every direction, crowded with 
freight trains. The cars were engineless, the 
rails themselves being charged with motive 
power. There were, of course, no passenger 
trains, travel being conducted entirely by air- 
ships. The air-ships were, perhaps, the greatest 
source of wonder to Demos. They were of two 
kinds, the large public ships, carrying some hun- 
dred passengers, and the smaller private ships, 
which varied in size and capacity, the smallest 
accommodating but two people. All were built 
on the same model. The hollow, cigar-shaped 
hull was made of the thinnest aluminum and 
hermetically sealed after being filled with a vola- 
tile but powerful gas, which served two purposes. 
It enabled the hull to withstand the pressure of 
the atmosphere and at the same time gave it the 
buoyancy necessary for floating. The patent 
which covered the manufacture of this gas was 
57 


The Monarch of Millions. 

the most valuable in the empire. On the top of 
the hull and overhanging it was built a glass car, 
which was air-tight when closed. The motor 
was placed in the rear or stern, occupying but 
very little space. The car was plainly furnished 
with chairs. From either side of the hull spread 
revolving flanges, of a patent material, exceed- 
ingly thin and tough, which when in motion 
whirled with incredible rapidity. The steering 
apparatus hung below the stern. Magnetic bal- 
ances kept the ship steady and in correct position. 
No arrangements for eating or sleeping were 
necessary, as the ships could maintain a speed of 
one hundred miles a minute. One of the small- 
est of the ships, which had been hovering about 
the balloon for some minutes, now suddenly 
darted to its side and stopped. 

Demos saw that its occupant was a young 
Noble. The Noble opened the door of his car 
and hailed the balloon. Demos courteously re- 
sponded. 

“Whither bound ?” asked the Noble. 

“New York/’ said Demos. 

“What kind of a craft do you call that?” 

“This? This is a balloon.” 

“You don’t say so. Never saw one before,” 
said the Noble. “Some old family heirloom, I 
58 


The Monarch of Millions. 


suppose,” and he eyed the balloon with great 
curiosity. 

“It was my father’s,” said Demos. 

“What will you take for it?” asked the Noble. 

“It’s not for sale,” replied Demos. “I need it 
in my business.” 

“What is your business?” 

“To restore liberty to the American people.” 

“O, come off !” said the Noble, “talk sense.” 

“Coming off would be a little awkward up 
here,” said Demos. “I assure you I meant just 
what I said.” 

“But what has your balloon got to do with it ?” 

“I must have means of locomotion.” 

“All right. I’ll swap.” 

“Swap?” 

“Yes. My air-ship for your balloon.” 

“But I don’t know how to manage an air- 
ship,” objected Demos. 

“Step right in and I’ll show you in a jiffy.” 

Demos jumped into the car. The Noble closed 
the door and explained the simple apparatus to 
him. The movement of a small switch turned 
on or shut off the current of power. Another 
switch regulated the action of the rudder. A 
child could handle it. The car was fitted with 
maps, a barometer, compass, sextant and quad- 
59 


The Monarch of Millions. 

rant. Under the Noble’s direction Demos took 
a spin of a few hundred miles and returned to the 
balloon in a most airmanlike manner. 

“Is it a go?” asked the Noble. 

Demos hesitated. It seemed to him he was 
getting so much the better of the bargain. The 
Noble, evidently an impulsive young gentleman, 
mistook hesitation for reluctance. 

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars to boot,” he 
cried. 

“O, I couldn’t think of it,” said Demos. 

“Why not? I think it’s a pretty good bargain 
for you.” Then he added, slyly, “It might help 
you in your business.” 

“True,” said Demos, gravely, “viewed in that 
light I think it right to accept your offer.” 

The Noble at once counted out a thousand 
dollars from his pocket-book. 

“Put me on board,” he said, “and show me 
how to work the old thing.” 

Demos accompanied him to the balloon, which 
he soon learned to handle. Our hero then took 
possession of the air-ship, and the two crafts 
parted company. 

“Come, come,” thought Demos, “this is a fair 
beginning. I can go where I wish and with 


60 


The Monarch of Millions. 


money in my pocket. The cause of Liberty is 
looking up.” 

Heading for New York, he arrived over that 
city in a few minutes, and turning off the cur- 
rent, hung motionless for hours in mid-air. It 
grew to night. No moon was up, but the sky 
was luminous with the stars of summer. The 
vasT metropolis lay beneath him, clearly outlined 
by its electric lights. He could see its centre, 
Manhattan Island, from the Battery to the Har- 
lem, throwing out its hundred bridges to east 
and west — great arms of light grasping the oppo- 
site shores. To the south stretched the glorious 
bay. Demos blew a kiss to what he supposed 
was the statue of Liberty. Alas, mistaken 
youth! That statue had given way to one of 
“Money Purchasing the World.” To the north 
were miles on miles of residences, all aglitter 
with little incandescent globes. Even at the 
height where the air-ship floated was audible a 
faint, incessant hum, telling to the heavens that 
ten million human beings were astir. 

“O !” cried Demos, in an ecstacy of yearning, 
“O, for a voice of thunder to reach that multi- 
tude and speak of liberty !” 

Then he noticed that he was very hungry, and, 
imitating other air-ships, he descended. Steer- 
61 


The Monarch of Millions. 


in g to a hotel, to which a policeman directed him, 
he found the roof furnished with grappling-irons 
to which air-ships could be moored. Safety was 
insured by padlocks, of which each traveller car- 
ried away his particular key. Elevators ran to 
the roof to receive air-ship guests. Descending 
to the office Demos registered and was assigned 
to a room for which payment was requested in 
advance, no doubt because of his unfashionable 
attire. After partaking of a hearty supper he 
retired to bed, well satisfied with his day’s work. 

Rich New York went its usual way that night. 
In clubs and theatres and ballrooms the frothy 
tide of gayety swept on. Men laughed and jest- 
ed, and fair women flirted, and none in all the 
city knew that among them had descended an 
Apostle of Liberty, at that moment snoring the 
honest snore of well-earned sleep. 

Slumber, O Demos! Yet must thou soon 
awake and preach thy gospel. Will any listen? 


62 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER VII. 

The day at Washington ended in a very satis- 
factory way. The out-door ceremonies had con- 
sumed the entire afternoon and were followed at 
night by a grand ball at the palace. The finan- 
cial flower of the Empire were present in their 
most gorgeous splendor to pay homage to His 
Supreme Richness, who, with a handshake here 
and a whisper there, seized every opportunity to 
turn an honest thousand in the pleasantest man- 
ner possible. Still it was evident that the im- 
perial mind was preoccupied, and it was sub- 
sequently told how the monarch had actually 
imparted a genuine tip or two whereby the lis- 
teners profited. Touching proof that his thoughts 
were elsewhere. 

Even without her exalted rank Sapphire would 
easily have been the queen of the occasion. She 
was robed in shimmering sea-green silk that 
clung in almost gossamer folds to every curve of 
her perfect form. She was crowned with the 
Crown of Morning, a marvellous work of the 
jeweller’s art in which emeralds, rubies, topazes, 
63 


The Monarch of Millions. 


amethysts and other gems were grouped in exact 
imitation of flowers, sprinkled with diamond 
dew. A necklace of pearls, famous for their size 
and purity, accented the whiteness of her throat 
and shoulders and the fair round bust, of which 
enough was visible to drive a score of Saint 
Anthonies to distraction. But she, too, was pre- 
occupied and danced as in a dream. Elderly, 
eligible millionaires made preposterous offers, 
gallant young nobles murmured soft vows and 
prayers — she heard them not; her thoughts were 
with her Demos. As the clocks struck twenty- 
four she experienced a thrill which she was sure 
was from her lover, and she bitterly regretted 
the absence of her telephone. Truth compels us 
to state, however, that the thrill must have been 
simply atmospheric, for at that precise moment 
Demos was consuming the last mouthfuls of a 
porterhouse steak and thinking of what he should 
take next. 

At two in the morning she could no longer 
endure publicity, and, accompanied by Aurea, 
retired to her own apartments. 

“O, Aurea,” she cried, as soon as they were 
alone, “how hollow is life without love.” 

“So I have found it,” sighed Aurea, sympa- 
thetically. 


64 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“Don’t be absurd, dear,” said Sapphire, lifting 
the Crown of Morning from her head and taking 
out sundry hairpins, whereat a kind of golden 
cloud fell streaming to her knees. 

“I don’t think I am absurd,” said Aurea; “it 
is true, too true, that the object of my affection 
is repulsive, but is not my love for that very 
reason the more unselfish, the more laudable?” 

Sapphire was surprised. She had never found 
Aurea argumentative before. 

“I hadn’t thought of it from that standpoint,” 
she replied, unfastening the silken robes; “per- 
haps you are right.” And the gossamer folds 
rustled to the ground, revealing the daintiest 
mysteries of lace and linen. “But what will 
your father say?” she asked. 

Aurea was the daughter of no less a personage 
than the Imperial Swineherd. 

“He will no doubt be annoyed,” answered 
Aurea. 

“But think of my case,” said Sapphire; “a 
lover condemned to die unless he makes a mill- 
ion, which he positively refuses to do. Was 
ever a girl placed in such a frightful position?” 

The mysteries of lace and linen had vanished 
now, and she stood in the undimmed glory of her 
radiant beauty. O, Beauty, sole power that sways 
65 


The Monarch of Millions. 


without an effort, before whom gods and men 
have worshipped since the world was, surely 
thou didst find thy last and highest expression in 
this twentieth-century girl. May the prudes and 
the evil-minded who would keep us silent before 
this divinity be forever banished to limbo and 
outer darkness! We will none of them. Had 
we the painter’s brush, how quickly would we 
make immortal those gracious contours, those 
delicious curves, that gleamed through the cloud 
of golden hair. Beshrew us, but the pen is im- 
potent! It can but faintly hint of the lustrous 
shoulders, the rounded bosom, the pliant waist, 
undeformed by abominable corsets ; the lithe and 
supple limbs, trained calisthenically to the grace 
of strength; the thousand charms that blended 
and made one, were called the Princess Sapphire. 

The bell of her portable telephone rang. The 
Princess blushed celestial rosy red. 

“My wrapper, quick!” she cried. 

Aurea threw that garment over her, envelop- 
ing her from neck to feet, and Sapphire ran to 
the telephone. 

“Dearest,” said the voice of Demos, “I have 
just awakened from a dream of you. Surely I 
saw you not a minute ago.” 

“O, I hope not,” said the Princess. 

66 


The Monarch of Millions. 

'‘What do you mean ?” 

“Nothing, dear, nothing. Where are you?” 

“In New York. I have an air-ship and a 
thousand dollars.” And Demos told the story of 
his aerial adventure. 

Then through the telephone passed the broken 
phrases, the fond endearments, so eloquent to 
those who utter them because they say nothing 
but mean everything ; and thus science was made 
to serve love, as it should ever do, for love is lord 
of all. 

Heaven knows how long this interview would 
have lasted but for a sudden interruption — a 
knock at the Princess' door. 

“My father!” she cried, and blew a kiss to 
Demos, with a hurried good-bye. 

The Emperor entered. 

“Can I have a few minutes' private conversa- 
tion with you?” he asked politely. 

“Certainly,” replied Sapphire, dismissing 
Aurea with a gesture. 

As soon as they were alone the Emperor, as 
was his wont, proceeded straight to the point. 

“My dear Sapphire,” he said, “falling in love 
with a gentleman of democratic tendencies is the 
last thing I should have expected of my 
daughter.” 


67 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“O, father, one has but to look at him.” 

“I have looked at him, and to be candid I am 
not at all prepossessed in his favor.” 

“O, father!” 

“Not at all. His capacities strike me as lim- 
ited. Men of one idea are always narrow and sel- 
dom successful. Look at me. I owe my fortune to 
my catholicity — I am always ready to adopt any 
opinions that promise to yield a fair profit. 
Frankly, I do not think your young man will 
make his million. He will never become rich.” 

“But he is rich.” 

“Indeed?” 

“In virtue, beauty, courage, ardor — in all that 
makes a man he is most affluent.” 

“H’m !” said Vangold ; “let us put it in another 
way — how would the commercial agencies rate 
him ?” 

“I know not, care not. I rate him in the agen- 
cies of nature.” 

“A large line of credit would hardly be ex- 
tended to him on that basis,” remarked the Em- 
peror. “Now, my dear girl, I want you to listen 
to reason. If your estimable mother were alive 
I sould be spared this painful duty — as it is I 
must lacerate my remaining feelings.” 

“Father, nothing you may say will shake me.” 

68 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“But I may induce you to shake Demos and 
the monarch smiled at his little pleasantry. 

“Sapphire,” he went on, “you cannot wish to 
see the young man perish. At the end of the 
month I shall assuredly order his execution, un- 
less, of course, he turns up with a million — an 
almost impossible event — or unless — ” and he 
paused, eyeing his daughter keenly with his parti- 
colored eyes. 

“Unless what?” she asked. 

“Unless you drop him.” 

“Drop him?” 

“Precisely. Do so and I will pardon him. 
Yes, I will not only pardon him but I will find 
him some comfortable position outside of the 
Civil Service, for I’m sure he could never pass 
a competitive examination.” 

“Father, I cannot,” said the Princess, sadly 
but firmly. “To drop him would be to drop 
myself into acute misery. No, we must take our 
chance.” 

“It’s a very slim one,” remarked the Emperor. 

“Slim it may be, but we must take it. Now, 
father, you forget the other alternative. Demos 
may succeed in overthrowing the Empire.” 

“A most remote contingency,” said the mon- 
arch. “Possible, of course. All things are pos- 
69 


The Monarch of Millions. 

sible. But I shouldn’t advise you to count on 
it.” 

“O, father !” cried Sapphire, flinging her arms 
about his neck, “will you not be merciful? Let 
me have him. As my husband he could not be 
dangerous. I will answer for that.” 

“You forget my obligations to my customers,” 
said Vangold. “Such a proceeding would vio- 
late the fundamental principles of our constitu- 
tion and would set a precedent fraught with peril 
to our institutions. No, it cannot be.” 

“Then I must join forces with Demos. I, too, 
must seek to destroy your Empire.” And the 
heroic girl faced her imperial sire with lofty re- 
solve and undaunted mien. In her, too, ran the 
blood of the Vangolds. 

The Emperor smiled indulgently. The threat, 
of course, but amused him and he rather admired 
his daughter’s spirit. 

“So it is to be war between us?” he asked, half 
playfully. 

“A war for my lover’s life,” she answered, quite 
seriously. 

He drew her to him and kissed her paternally, 
without the slightest animosity. His love for her 
was the one weak spot in an otherwise iron na- 


j 


70 


The Monarch of Millions. 


ture, and her defiance was to him but as the 
harmless prattle of a babe. 

Father and daughter parted — she to restless, 
feverish tossings and vain search of rest — he to 
his habitual calm, light sleep, the sleep of the 
tiger, conscious of his strength, ready to spring 
from ambush at the scent of prey. Woe to the 
lamb whose path lay thitherward! 


1 \ 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Three weeks had elapsed since the night that 
Demos reached New York. He had not been 
idle. To the best of his ability and in the most 
public manner he had everywhere promulgated 
the doctrines of Liberty. 

One day he visited the Stock Exchange and 
witnessed with curiosity the wild, undignified 
scramble for gain. Nobles and plebeians jostled 
each other in the delirious dance of quotations. 
Shrill voices, deep voices, hoarse voices, all 
kinds of voices, vied in bids and offers, united 
in covetous clamor. News, rumors, lies, slan- 
ders sped from mouth to mouth — all with one 
frenzied purpose — to win wealth. With eyes 
fierce-shining, with haggard, sweaty faces, 
men fought and wrestled for the golden dollar, 
to them sole end and aim of all desire. 

Demos noticed that particular attention was 
riveted on a certain telegraph station. It was 
the line from Washington, over which came the 
imperial bulletins. At the other end sat Van- 
gold, presiding genius of the saturnalia. 

72 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Demos felt it incumbent on him to address the 
assemblage. He stood up in the front of the 
visitors' gallery in an oratorical attitude. 

“Gentlemen," he said — and a momentary hush 
fell upon the exchange, while all eyes were 
turned upon the strange intruder — “Gentlemen, 
excuse me if I venture to remind you that all 
men are born free and equal." 

A howl of good-humored derision greeted the 
remark and the interrupted gamble was resumed. 
What time had these men to listen to philosoph- 
ical propositions? 

An official touched Demos on the shoulder — 
“Better go," said the official. 

Demos went. He did not feel that he had 
accomplished much. 

He made earnest efforts to get his views pub- 
lished in the newspapers, but at first was in- 
variably referred to the business office, where 
he was told he could insert what he chose in the 
advertising columns at the customary rates. This 
Demos did not feel that he could afford. 

One editor, touched, perhaps, by his youth 
and ingenuousness, talked quite freely to him. 

“To publish your views in my paper," he said, 
“except as advertising matter, would be a very 
foolish piece of business. It is true that the 
73 


The Monarch of Millions. 


press is absolutely free. We can print what we 
choose — the imperial authorities never interfere. 
The Government is wise ejiough to know that 
self-interest will compel the press to support the 
ruling class. How can it be otherwise ? A well- 
conducted journal in these- days has four sources 
of revenue — advertising, circulation, the sale of 
its editorials columns to corporations and trusts, 
and what it gets for the suppression of news. 
Now, for everything except circulation, it de- 
pends almost entirely upon the wealthy, whom it 
would be very silly indeed to offend. 

“I will guarantee that there is not a paper 
in New York which would print anything un- 
pleasant about a rich man, unless indeed that 
man should have had the hardihood to refuse sub- 
stantial support to the paper. Then our pro- 
prietors themselves are of the wealthy class, all 
of them, in fact, Nobles, and directly interested 
in the maintenance of the Empire. You must 
remember we are not in the nineteenth century, 
when a certain amount of sentimental flapdoodle 
was still considered the proper thing to feed to 
the masses. The reign of money is now open 
and official. Wealth no longer reigns through 
forms and fictions, it is the legal and acknowl- 
edged sovereignty.” 


74 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“Then,” said Demos, “I infer that Liberty has 
no show in the press.” 

“That depends upon what you mean by lib- 
erty. The press maintains and upholds the lib- 
erty to acquire property by all legal means, it 
insists upon the liberty of the Nobles to tax the 
plebeians in every way that ingenuity can suggest, 
and of its own liberty to print or suppress what 
it chooses it is particularly jealous.” 

“Neither of the kinds of liberty you have men- 
tioned seems to me entirely holy,” said Demos. 

“Indeed,” said the editor, “you surprise me.” 

“My own brand of liberty,” continued Demos, 
“is for the use of all mankind and is, I venture 
to think, a panacea for most social ills.” 

“You might see the editor of the Dryheat” 

“I have met the gentleman in Washington,” 
replied Demos. 

“He preaches yet another kind of liberty,” 
said the editor, “but really his sheet is without 
influence. He can no longer collect a cent — not 
even for the suppression of dynamite threats. 
Still, he might give you a hearing.” 

“I already have the promise of his support,” 
said Demos ; “he may become a loathsome neces- 
sity.” 

Demos left the editor feeling rather discour- 

75 


The Monarch of Millions. 


aged. However, the press was not long to re- 
main closed to him. The story of his singular 
relations with the Emperor and his daughter 
leaked out and he became the sensation of the 
hour. Reporters besieged him for interviews, 
his portrait was published far and wide, and 
even his views were ventilated, not, though, as 
a matter to be taken seriously, but as a whimsical 
joke. 

One morning he received a visit at his hotel 
from the manager of a dime museum. 

“I understand,” said the manager, “that you 
must make a million very shortly or suffer a 
disagreeable penalty.” 

“Such is the case,” said Demos. 

“I come to offer you a million.” 

“What,” cried Demos, much moved, “have I 
at last found a supporter of the Sacred Cause?” 

“I know nothing about your cause. I will 
give you a million for the exclusive right to ex- 
hibit you through the Empire for one year.” 

“In what capacity?” 

“As a freak.” 

“My dear sir, you misunderstand. I don’t 
want a million. I want to restore Liberty to the 
American people. I could not honestly appear 
as a freak.” 


76 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“Nonsense. You are the most magnificent 
specimen of a freak imaginable.” 

“Do you really think so?” 

“I’m sure of it. I’ll sign a contract with you 
on the spot.” 

“I must refuse. It would be obtaining money 
under false pretenses.” 

“It would be the honestest money you ever 
earned.” 

But the young man was inflexible, and thus 
was lost forever one opportunity to elevate the 
museum stage. 

The great city oppressed Demos. Manhattan 
Island was entirely devoted to business struc- 
tures, with the exception of the parks, which 
still remained — oases in a wilderness of brick. 
The Imperial Plaisance, the former Central 
Park, was reserved to the Nobles, the smaller 
pleasure grounds were open to the public. Enor- 
mous power stations, some two miles apart, sup- 
plied electricity for public and private use. The 
old street-car tracks were utilized for the car- 
riage of freight, in vehicles that connected with 
subterranean conduits, much after the fashion 
of the ancient trolley system. Local passenger 
traffic was by means of air-ships which, how- 
ever, carried no motors, but slid along thin steel 
77 


The Monarch of Millions. 


rods charged with electricity. These rods were 
supported at a height of one hundred feet by 
slender tubes which were at the same time water 
pipes for the use of the fire department. The 
disappearance of horses and the constant use of 
the electric brush kept the streets exquisitely 
clean. In lieu of the rattle of wheels was audible 
everywhere the faint mysterious hum of omni- 
present machinery. In factories, mills and work- 
shops automatic devices almost entirely super- 
seded human labor. It seemed as if anything 
could be accomplished by pressing a button or 
turning a switch. This was equally true of 
household matters. Electricity cooked, scrubbed, 
swept or washed with unfailing precision. The 
hands of a domestic were as white as those of her 
mistress. 

In talking over this phase of civilization one 
day with his friend, the editor, Demos asked, 
“Does not this wonderful development of elec- 
tric power greatly cheapen the necessaries of 
lifer 

“Unquestionably,” replied the editor, “and the 
luxuries, too.” 

“Then why should not everyone be comfort- 
ably off without great exertion ?” 

“You forget our system of government. All 

78 


The Monarch of Millions 


these inventions are owned by great corpora- 
tions which charge for their use the maximum 
that is collectible. In other words, they employ 
a forced, though indirect, method of taxation 
which inures to the sole benefit of the privileged 
classes.” 

“O, Liberty !” cried Demos, “sole cure for all 
these ills.” 

“I don't know about that,” objected the editor; 
“we used to have what we called liberty, and 
things amounted to pretty much the same as 
they do now. We are simply franker. There’s 
no humbug about the Empire.” 

“Pardon me,” said Demos, “what you say only 
proves that you didn’t possess the genuine arti- 
cle. My style of liberty is warranted to do the 
job.” 

Demos wandered among the poor — he spake 
burning words to them, but was heard with in- 
different ears and looked at with lack-luster 
eyes. He made no headway at all, and time was 
getting short. He thought perhaps that New 
York was not the proper field for him, so one 
day, in his air-ship, he took a flying trip over 
the continent. He first dropped in at Buffalo, 
a city of some two millions, with the power of 
Niagara running cheaply its factories and 
79 


The Monarch of Millions. 

foundries. He stopped at Chicago, the central 
metropolis, with its five million inhabitants fer- 
vently worshipping the national symbol, of which 
it might be called the birth-place and the home. 
He took a look at Omaha, Denver, and San 
Francisco. They were all smaller New Yorks, 
with the same civilization, the same division of 
rich and poor, the same fury of acquirement. 

He returned to New York in the evening, 
tired out and heartsick. He even had cowardly 
thoughts of the dime-museum manager. He re- 
solved to consult Sapphire, and rang her up. 

“Dearest, ” came promptly in her sweet voice. 

“Ym getting along very poorly,” he said. 

“My own poor darling,” cried Sapphire. 

“Nobody seems to care for Liberty. 0 

“I do, because you do.” 

“That’s very nice of you, but one convert, and 
that a young woman, won’t help me much.” 

“Perhaps more than you think, dear.” 

“I feel so hopeless that I thought I ought to 
tell you I’m offered a million.” 

“O! by whom?” 

“The manager of a dime museum.” 

“But what for?” 

“To go on exhibition as a freak.” 


SO 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“My Demos a freak! Never! It would kill 

„ yy 

me. 

“Well, if I don’t take some step your father 
will kill me, you know.” 

Something like a sob came to his ear, then 
the sweet voice again, now trembling. 

“Demos, I must see you. Come to Washing- 
ton to-morrow, after dark. We must meet se- 
cretly.” 

“With rapture, dear.” 

“Say at your old boarding-house.” 

“O, you know that place?” 

“Yes — Aurea goes there to see- her horrid 
affinity.” 

“Very good. To-morrow evening.” 

“Yes. O, dearest do you still love me?” 

“More than ever.” 

“You’re quite sure?” 

“Of course. Transmit me a kiss, darling.” 

But we refuse to report the interview any fur- 
ther. Cold print is but a funeral dress for the 
tender stupidities, the ravishing nonsense, the 
fond incoherencies of love. 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER IX. 

It was evening in the saloon of the widow 
Liebotshoener. There was a numerous gather- 
ing of guests, most of them rough and shaggy 
gentlemen with the undefinable but unmistak- 
able air of the professional Anarchist. The 
practice of anarchy seems to demand of its 
votaries the cultivation of much hair, abstention 
from soap and water, a marked carelessness in 
costume, a deep devotion to tobacco and a pas- 
sionate prejudice for beer. Nor are these traits 
to be greatly wondered at. Minds engaged in 
the lofty pursuit of the ideal by the dynamite 
route cannot be expected to occupy themselves 
with such ordinary trifles as cleanliness and neat- 
ness. Tobacco, even in the shape of Connecticut 
fine-cut, or cheap domestic cigars, is a powerful 
stimulant to thought, while beer is a benign 
beverage productive of volatile visions. There 
is a mystery, however, in the Anarchist's love 
of whiskers and long locks, but the true philos- 
ophy of hair has never yet been written. Why 
82 


The Monarch of Millions. 


was Samson strong only when unshaven? Why 
did the Roundheads so execrate the curls of the 
Cavalier? Why, for long years, did man hide 
his poll in a wig while he carefully scraped his 
face? Why is baldness, among civilized nations, 
an object of derision, while among savages it is 
an object of veneration? We know not. But 
this we know and fearlessly assert, that some- 
where deep-planted in the human heart lie potent 
instincts that find expression in hair or the lack 
of hair. Doubtless the fierce moustachio, the 
luxuriant whisker, the bristling pompadour of 
your conscientious Anarchist, are the necessary 
and inevitable shadows of spiritual realities. 

The atmosphere of the saloon was densely 
charged with smoke. Philosophers bandied epi- 
grams and epithets, orators uttered flamboyant 
and bloodthirsty speeches in which the word 
“bloated” frequently occurred. All was 
ominous to capital, except the capital of the 
widow Liebotshoener, who, like an elderly 
Hebe, did herself minister to the wants of her 
clamoring guests. 

But a sudden silence fell upon the saloon. It 
was caused by the entrance of Bill Boneyard, 
high-priest of his peculiar people. 

“What cheer, comrades, what cheer?” asked 

83 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Bill. “Hath any among ye struck a blow fol 
freedom of late?” 

A general inarticulate growl was the only re- 
sponse. 

“Brothers, brothers,” said Bill reproachfully; 
“of what avail my teachings? Have I not re- 
peatedly printed in the Dryheat a list of one 
hundred very objectionable millionaires? Do 
not the entire hundred yet cumber the ground 
and poison the air? Shame on you, shame on 
you.” 

“That’s all very well,” remarked a youthful 
disciple, “but why don’t you set us an example ?” 

“I,”' cried Bill, “I? Never! I am needed to 
keep burning the torch of anarchy, which but for 
such as I would flicker out. But for my clarion 
voice you might forget yourselves and go to 
work, and work, my brethren, mark it well — 
work is fatal to anarchy. Yes, my brethren, 
even as rough-on-rats is to the peaceful rodent, 
so is labor to our holy faith.” He paused, his 
voice husky with emotion, and demanded beer 
of the widow. 

“There’s quite a score against you already,” 
said the widow doubtfully. 

“Aye,” replied Bill, “even so. It is no fault 


84 


The Monarch of Millions. 


of mine, widow. The faithful are slow to pay up 
their subscriptions — confoundedly slow.” 

“But I have to pay the brewer,” said the 
widow. 

“Accursed be the brewer!” shouted Bill. “A 
bloated monster who would withhold the lager 
of life from the lips of the poor! But heed me 
— the day will come when beer shall flow like 
water, when brewers shall furnish liquor free 
or drink themselves of molten lead. Ha! think 
of it! O, pleasing picture! A brewer drinking 
molten lead while beer flows down the parched 
throats of the poor.” 

Thunderous applause would have shaken the 
rafters had there been any rafters to shake. As 
it was, the papered ceiling visibly vibrated. The 
widow was conquered and immediately drew a 
schooner for Bill. 

The young disciple — let us charitably suppose 
he had taken a drop too much — seemed still 
aggressive. “What do you know about work?” 
he asked of Bill. 

“Fire and fury!” screamed Bill, “he asks me 
what I know of work — me, the martyr! Know, 
boy, that for one long year I was immured by 
the minions of the law on Blackwell’s Island. 
They made me bathe — curse them ! They 
65 


The Monarch of Millions 


shaved my face and cut my hair — may they rot 
forever! They set me to work in the black- 
smith's shop — may they be blown to a million 
atoms ! O, brethren, it was tough. It was 
almost too much for me. I kept my spirits up 
with the aid of pleasing fictions. At every blow 
I struck I said to myself, This is a gold-bug, 
this is a bondholder, this is a Pharisee.' By 
these means I withstood the effect of work, for 
work, even in my case, was beginning to under- 
mine my principles. It took a long course of 
idleness after my release to thoroughly rehabili- 
tate me. Brethren, I have suffered." 

“Death to the minions of the law!" shouted 
his hearers. 

“Aye," said Bill, “death to them all — particu- 
larly to the policemen, who will not let us rise." 

He drank deep of the foaming lager and, wip- 
ing his mouth on the back of his hand, inserted 
his huge pipe between his teeth. He looked 
hard at the young disciple, but that youth was 
vanquished. 

“Master," he said, “have a drink on me." 

All the sternness melted from Bill's face. His 
rugged nature was touched in a responsive spot. 
“Boy,” he said, “I am with you. Let there be 
beer between us." 


86 


The Monarch of Millions. 


At this moment Demos entered the saloon. 
It was the time fixed for his appointment with 
the Princess Sapphire. He was warmly wel- 
comed by the widow and the Anarchist, nor 
was the warmth diminished when he promptly 
settled his little outstanding account, displaying 
in doing so a well-filled pocketbook. 

The Anarchist took him on one side. 

“You seem well fixed,” he said. 

“Fairly so.” 

“Suppose I should strike you for a small 
loan?” 

“I should feel it my duty to decline.” 

“Why?” 

“Your principles are so execrable.” 

“Ha! You don’t want me, then?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Then your little affair of to-night doesn’t 
>> 

“What do you mean?” 

“Just what I say.” 

“Explain yourself,” said Demos, “what do 
you know of my business here?” 

The Anarchist winked. “That girl,” he said, 
“you know — the one that’s stuck on me ” 

“Good heavens !” interrupted Demos, “does 
Miss Aurea still nurse that fatal passion?” 

87 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“She does. It's unweanable.” 

Demos shuddered. 

“Your girl’s coming soon/’ said Bill, “I was 

to fix things for you, but if you’re so close ” 

and he shrugged his shoulders. 

“I see. You wish to blackmail me.” 

“The editor of the Dryheat never blackmails, 
but he takes yearly subscriptions payable in ad- 
vance. The sum is five dollars strictly in cash.” 

“It’s not exorbitant.” 

“It’s dirt cheap. If you win one of our guess- 
ing contests you get a clockwork bomb free.” 

Demos subscribed. He reflected that he might 
guess and win a bomb in which event he could 
destroy at least one infernal instrument — a spe- 
cious argument whereby he compromised mat- 
ters with his conscience. This financial transac- 
tion concluded, the Anarchist told him to wait in 
the saloon till he heard three blows struck on 
the ceiling, which signal would signify that the 
Princess had arrived and was waiting in the 
parlor. He also informed Demos that Aurea 
would accompany her mistress. 

“But I wish to see the Princess alone,” said 
Demos. 

“That’s all right. I’ll go out — the other one 


88 


The Monarch of Millions. 

will follow me — sure.” And again the Anarchist 
favored Demos with a wink as he left the saloon. 

The presence of a clean stranger seemed to 
disconcert the remaining Anarchists, who one 
by one departed until Demos and the widow were 
alone. The elderly Emma tried in vain to en- 
gage the young man in conversation. Her 
sprightly sallies fell unheeded on ears that were 
listening for three blows that were to announce 
the goddess of his dream. The moments seemed 
like hours, vague suspicions of Bill floated 
through his excited brain, when — one, two, three 
— the signal came. He flew upstairs to the par- 
lor, he sprang inside — she was there! With a 
cry of delight he caught her to him and kissed 
the lovely lips that murmured his name. 

“Dearest, we are not alone,” she whispered. 

Then he saw Aurea and the Anarchist. Greet- 
ing Aurea, he gave Bill a look which meant “Go.” 

“I tumble,” said the Anarchist. 

“Tumble?” echoed Sapphire, in surprise. 

Bill spoke no more, but shambled out of the 
parlor. Aurea followed him. 

“Aurea, you must not leave us,” cried the 
Princess. 

“Alas, I must,” sighed Aurea. “The influ- 


69 


The Monarch of Millions. 


ence is too strong. To meet him is to follow 
him. Inexplicable Bill.” 

“Child, you dream,” said her mistress. 

“Perhaps I do. It’s like a nightmare, isn’t it? 
But the depth of my devotion to that hideous 
person is immeasurable.” 

And the once haughty maiden followed the 
Anarchist, who puffed his great pipe in com- 
plete indifference, nor vouchsafed her word or 
glance. 

He passed down the stairway and out into a 
garden at the rear of the saloon. He flung him- 
self upon a seat and sprawled in all the uncouth- 
ness of his bulk. 

“Monster,” said Aurea pathetically, “can 
nothing move you to pity? — to recognition of my 
superhuman attachment ?” 

A gruff chuckle was the only response, as the 
Anarchist lazily watched the stars, from one of 
which perhaps the shade of the supreme poet 
viewed the strange scene, thinking with grave, 
reminiscent smile of how Titania wooed Bottom, 
in the enchanted forest, hard by Athens. 


90 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER X. 

Left alone, Demos and Sapphire regarded each 
other in a transport too great for speech. She 
wore a long, hooded cloak which left nothing 
visible but her wondrous face. The single dim 
globe in the parlor created shadow rather than 
light, and the Princess looked more like some 
ethereal vision than a creature of flesh and blood. 

“O!” cried Demos at last, with mingled ardor 
and adoration, “how beautiful you are!” 

She smiled the gratified smile of a woman who 
listens to her lover’s praise, and suffered him to 
fold her in his arms. His boldness did not dis- 
please ‘her. Secure in the fearless frankness of 
her love, his kisses left her undisturbed. She 
was filled with sweet, indulgent tenderness and 
gracious trust. Nevertheless, youth is youth, 
and Demos began to realize that he clasped no 
vision, but a most charming reality. 

“Dearest,” she said, “I have much to say to 
you, and time is flying.” 

Her voice recalled his wandering wits. 

9\ 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“Come,” she went on, “let us sit down and talk 
matters over.” 

He led her to the sofa and sat by her side. 

“I think I had a little touch of vertigo,” he 
stammered out. 

“Poor boy,” she said, laying her hand upon 
his brow, “you have been working so hard.” 

“Yes,” assented Demos, now fully himself, 
“I have been carrying on business pretty stead- 
ily” 

“Help me off with my cloak,” she said, “it has 
grown so very warm.” 

The cloak was laid aside. She wore a dress 
of blue and amber tints that much became her, 
yet Demos did not like it. He had always 
thought of her in pure white, he said. She ex- 
plained to him that she was not free to wear 
what she chose — that for every official function 
the costume was prescribed by statute. The 
dress she had on was that of a directress in one 
of her father’s banks, a board-meeting of which 
she had been attending. This enlightened but 
annoyed Demos. It reminded him that she was 
the daughter of Vangold, against whom he was 
waging so fruitless a struggle. She was quick 
to perceive his altered mood and to guess its 
cause. 


92 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“You are not succeeding* ?” she asked. 

“No.” 

“Tell me just how you go about it.” 

“I orate of liberty to everyone.” 

“But how?” 

“How? Why I just orate. I have composed 
and committed to memory a number of very fine 
speeches.” 

“But what do you say?” 

“Shall I deliver one of them?” 

“No, no! To what passions or interests do 
you appeal?” 

“To patriotism — to the love of freedom — to 
the desire of equality.” 

“I thought so. Foolish boy.” 

“Foolish? I assure you my speeches are very 
burning efforts and ought to be very convincing.” 

Demos was piqued. He admired his orations 
exceedingly and could not understand their 
failure. 

“You have not struck the right idea,” said 
Sapphire. “You appeal to feelings that are 
dead.” 

“Not dead — dormant,” corrected Demos. 

“Well, so very dormant that they might as 
well be dead. The proper thing is to show the 
people that Liberty will pay.” 

93 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“Will pay?” 

“Certainly. Show them how their toil is taxed 
for the benefit of the few. Show them how Lib- 
erty will pay, say, eighty cents on the dollar, 
while the present state of things pays only forty. 
Such an argument must prove irresistible.” 

“Since when have you become so wise?” cried 
Demos, amazed. 

“Since I have loved,” she answered, with a 
smile so arch, so winning, so tempting, that 
Demos promptly ceased talking political econ- 
omy to act love. Surprised at this sudden change 
of front she, for a few brief moments, permitted 
the caresses which the impetuous youth showered 
upon her from head to foot in the fervor of his 
gratitude and worship. 

“Ah! if the people would love you as I do!” 
she exclaimed, rising hurriedly from the sofa. 

She walked to the window looking out upon 
the garden. Intoxicated with her presence, filled 
with vague unrest and mysterious hopes, Demos 
wavered. 

“I can give up the fight,” he said hoarsely, 
“I can accept the million of the dime-museum 
and you will be mine.” 

“Never!” she cried, confronting him, superb 


94 


The Monarch of Millions. 


with scorn. “You, a freak upon a platform, 
gazed at by anyone with ten cents to spend ?” 

“They might charge extra for me.” 

“And if they did, how would that help mat- 
ters ? At a quarter you would still be despicable, 
and I don’t suppose you would draw at any 
higher price.” 

“But you would be mine.” 

“No! The bride of Demos, the Apostle, I 
will be. If they put you to death, I will be your 
widow. Nothing shall come between us. But 
the bride of Demos, the Freak, I could not be- 
come — rather would I welcome old-maidhood 
with all its attendant inconveniences.” 

The ringing words went home, the point of 
temptation was passed forever. Demos now 
shuddered to think that he could have contem- 
plated freakship. 

“Forgive me,” he said. “Love makes cow- 
ards.” 

“And love makes heroes,” she replied. “Fol- 
low my advice, preach in the correct way to the 
people and you will win. You have ten days 
left.” 

“I will,” he cried. “I will say to them, ‘Num- 
skulls, be free that you may be better off. Dolts, 
conquer liberty that will increase your wages. 

95 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Idiots, acquire freedom and reduce taxation. 
Fools, let equality cheapen bread and butter. 
Come, come, one and all, wage holy war for the 
sacred pocketbook. Liberty pays !’ ” 

“O, glorious!” said Sapphire, “now you are 
eloquent indeed.” 

“Of course ten days is not much time, and it 
will be very awkward if I fail.” 

“You mean that my father will execute you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Not while I am around,” said the daughter 
of Vangold, with a something metallic in her 
voice that recalled the Emperor. “I shall take 
measures for your personal safety. It is true that 
my father is all-powerful, but since I have loved 
I do not fear to cope with him.” 

O, how changed was she from the girl of three 
weeks ago. Love, the necromancer, waves his 
wand, and the shrinking maid becomes a fury, 
the callow youth a hero. 

“Last night,” she said, “you telephoned me 
that one convert, and that a young woman, 
wouldn’t help you much. You were mistaken. 
My aid is not to be despised.” 

Demos was thunderstruck. It began to dawn 
upon him that he was dealing with a Vangold, 
with the scion of a particularly virile race. A 
96 


The Monarch of Millions. 


curious sensation of respect tempered those 
softer feelings which hitherto had monopolized 
his heart. With pride he reflected that this 
royal girl was his — with humiliation he felt that 
he was certainly her inferior. That he had 
dared to fold her in his arms, to cover her with 
kisses, seemed to him now an audacious profana- 
tion. With unerring instinct she read the com- 
plex thoughts that bewildered him and straight- 
way she came to him. 

“Demos/’ she said — and, O, how gentle now 
her voice — “Demos, mistake me not. It is you, 
and you alone, that gives me courage. Don’t 
think me masculine — I am but as a mirror to re- 
flect your daring. O, love, I am yours — yours 
completely — do with me as you will, but love me. 
Love me more than Liberty.” 

She wound her arms about his neck and looked 
up into his eyes. She offered her mouth to his, 
and the faint aroma of her breath surrounded 
him. A rosy tint slowly crept over her face and 
throat and breast that but a moment since were 
so white and cold and stern. With a gasp he 
fell upon his knees before her, quivering with 
emotion. 

“O, love, love,” he cried, “it is for you to com- 

97 

r 


The Monarch of Millions. 


mand. I am all unworthy of you. Be gracious 
to your rude, rough Demos.” 

She laid her hand upon his head. “My rude, 
rough Demos,” she repeated, caressingly. 

It was a charming sight — strength kneeling 
to beauty, as strength should ever do, for beauty 
is the sum and flower of all things created, the 
inspiration of all noble deeds and thoughts, the 
guerdon wherefor do gods and men strive 
mightily. 

“Dearest,” she said, “we must part for about 
ten days. Put in as much work as you can 
around New York. When your time is up re- 
turn to me. I will meanwhile make it warm for 
my father.” 

“Do, sweet one, do,” said Demos, “make it 
as warm as you conveniently can, for he is cer- 
tainly a tough subject.” 

“I know it. Never yet has he met defeat.” 

“It’s time he began,” said Demos, indignantly. 

“Don’t abuse him any more than you can help, 
for after all he is my own papa.” 

“If he were not your own papa I should chal- 
lenge him to single combat.” 

“He fights only by proxy. He keeps a half- 
dozen pugilists for such emergencies, not tq 
mention the police.” 


98 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“I see there would be difficulties,” remarked 
Demos. 

With such light chat did they put off the part- 
ing moment, and might have put it off still 
longer but for the intrusion upon the scene of 
the Anarchist, followed by Aurea. 

“Couldn’t stand it any longer,” said Bill, 
“she’s wearing on a fellow,” jerking his dirty 
thumb toward Aurea. 

“O, horrible, yet fascinating pet,” that young 
lady murmured. 

“Aurea, I grieve for you,” said the Princess, 
“you have contracted a most distressing passion 
— more distressing, perhaps, to your friends than 
to yourself.” 

“I don’t see how that can be,” said Aurea; “I 
am agonized — yet there is delight of a certain 
kind in real agony. Isn’t there?” she asked the 
Anarchist. 

“I’d be delighted if you would occasionally 
shut up,” that gentleman growled. “Adore as 
much as you like, but for heaven’s sake keep 
quiet once in a while. You r^ake me tired.” 

“You are grossly impolite/’ said Demos, se- 
verely. 

“Who wouldn’t be? Don’t I have to talk for 
a living? Thunder ynd lightning! I’m blowing 
9S 


Loft, 


The Monarch of Millions. 

off steam all day at other folks — am I, in my 
spare moments, to have steam blown off at me? 
I won’t stand it.” 

“What sweetly repulsive fury,” said Aurea 
admiringly. 

“Now stop it!” roared Bill. “Look at me all 
you want, but do it quietly.” 

“To look at you is the worst of all,” said the 
Princess, contemptuously. “You must treat 
Aurea with more consideration. She will no 
doubt recover in time.” 

“I hope so,” said Bill. “First I thought I was 
in luck, but I ain’t. I’m hoodooed.” 

Nevertheless it was plain that under this bois- 
terous affectation the worthy Anarchist was 
proud of his conquest, and he favored Aurea 
with infrequent leers that made him a marvel of 
ugliness unique to look at, and upon which she 
emotionally subsisted. 

“We must go,” said the Princess to Aurea. 

Escorted by Demos and Bill they passed down 
stairs and into the garden, where was moored a 
small air-ship which they entered. Demos 
watched its short flight to the palace and then 
sought his own conveyance. 

“Partner,” said the Anarchist, as Demos was 


The Monarch of Millions. 

about to start, “take a few bombs and drop ’em 
over the country as you fly. I have a couple of 
dozen in my pockets. You’re welcome.” 

“As I have told you before, they are not in 
my line,” answered Demos. “I thank you for 
your courtesy, of course, but I execrate your 
views.” 

“You’ll think different a week hence.” 

“Possibly.” 

“You’ll find me right here.” 

“I may have to look you up.” 

And Demos shot into space, reaching New 
York in something over five minutes. 

Bill walked, meditative, through the streets. 
He was struck with the vigor and nerve of 
Demos. He confidently counted on his being 
forced to come to him for help to avoid the Em- 
peror’s sentence, and delighted visions of triumph 
floated before his bloodshot eyes. “All we need 
is nerve,” said he, shaking himself, “if I had 
nerve what a dandy I would be.” And again he 
fell to dreaming and stood still — he seemed to 
hear the explosion of dynamite, the roar of guns, 
the yells of an enraged populace, over whom 
floated the blood-red flag of Anarchy. But stern 
reality in the shape of a policeman came along 


m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


and ordered him to move on. Sad image of his 
fate — to be forever shoved on one side by brutal 
force. Mildly and meekly he obeyed — he always 
did — and returned to the widow's saloon. 


t02 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER XI. 

The last week of the apostleship of Demos 
will be forever memorable in the annals of the 
American people. He worked with incredible 
vigor. Once an hour he delivered an oration in 
New York which was instantly transmitted to, 
and repeated by phonographs, in every important 
center of population. These orations followed 
the lines laid down by Sapphire and portrayed 
vividly the pecuniary profits of liberty. Looked 
at from this point of view liberty possessed at- 
tractions for the popular mind, and public 
opinion, so long silent, began to be heard again 
in the land. The newspapers, quick to feel the 
public pulse, viewed with alarm the incipient 
signs of revolution, and called upon the authori- 
ties to suppress the agitator. But the Emperor 
gave no indication of uneasiness. Impassive as 
usual, he went his way and never mentioned the 
name of Demos. True, he had been quite busy 
of late directing some very delicate operations in 
the stock market, which had just happily cul- 
*03 


The Monarch of Millions. 


minated in the ruin of some twenty or thirty 
great speculators and the transfer of their mil- 
lions to the imperial pocket — a process which 
never lost its charm for Vangold. 

Capital, however, is proverbially timid, and a 
certain restlessness pervaded the ranks of the 
Nobles. It was hard for them to be obliged to 
listen every day to the public phonographs pour- 
ing forth hourly protests against the imperial 
system, and informing the plebeians of the im- 
mense advantage to them in a return to repub- 
lican liberty. The apparent indifference of the 
Emperor puzzled them, but they dared not ques- 
tion him. Porker alone ventured to ask him 
why the phonographs were allowed to be used 
for such seditious purposes. “My friend,” was 
the reply, “the rates per hour are fixed by 
statute. Whosoever can pay can rent. The 
young man is a steady customer and his money 
is as good as that of another.” 

“But his atrocious sentiments!” cried Porker. 

“Words, mere words,” said Vangold, dismiss- 
ing the subject with a smile. 

Porker did not at all relish the Emperor’s at- 
titude. Long acquaintance with his master led 
him to fear some hidden trap, but he vainly 
cudgelled his brains for a plausible theory of 
104 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Vangold’s do-nothing policy — yet he knew that 
many of the Emperor’s most famous coups had 
been preceded by similar ominous calm. Deter- 
mined to seek advice and counsel, he secretly 
called a meeting of the four secretaries. The 
meeting took place at Porker’s house on the 
evening of July the twenty-seventh. 

“Gentlemen,” said Porker, “I may be wrong, 
but I am convinced that we stand upon the brink 
of a serious crisis.” 

“Unquestionably,” said Pontmorgue; “I have 
observed for a week past a steady and regular 
decline in the national securities.” 

“The produce markets are in a similar condi- 
tion,” said Blighter. 

“Oil and cotton, too,” added Rockyfellow. 

“As for the general state of affairs,” remarked 
Marcanna, “it is highly unsatisfactory. That 
young man Demos is stirring up the plebeians at 
a great rate. Why, gentlemen, there is even talk 
in New York of reorganizing the Tammany So- 
ciety.” 

“A rumor too horrible to be true, I trust,” said 
Porker. “But we wander from the point. Why 
are all our markets declining in the face of un- 
usual prosperity and a triumphant financial gov- 
ernment? Who is doing the selling?” 

*05 


The Monarch of Millions. 


They all grew pale. The same thought flitted 
through each man’s brain at the same moment, a 
thought too fearful for utterance — but Porker 
rose to the occasion. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, “\yhat I read in your 
faces cannot be. His Supreme Richness would 
never tamper, or may I say monkey, with the 
national markets.” 

A sarcastic hum ran round the room. 

“Reflect, gentlemen,” the Swineherd went on, 
“the Emperor’s interest in the preservation of our 
financial Empire is greater than all of ours com- 
bined.” 

This seemed indeed a forcible argument, but 
the spirit of distrust was now aroused and alert. 

“When does the young man die?” asked Pont- 
morgue of the Swineherd. 

“On the first of August, unless he shows up 
with a million.” 

“Of course he won’t do that,” said Rockyfel- 
low, “we know that patriotism and money-mak- 
ing seldom go hand in hand. Our personal ex- 
perience warrants that conclusion.” 

“He will undoubtedly die,” said Porker, “un- 
less the Emperor has other views.” 

“Have you any reason to suspect other views ?” 
asked Blighter. 

m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“None whatever. Personally his execution 
will please me, for his affair with the Princess 
Sapphire has aroused a ridiculous desire in the 
collective female breast for love — which might 
interfere seriously with our system of marrying 
our daughters to the highest and best cash bid- 
ders. My own Aurea has conceived some para- 
doxical passion, I believe. ,, And the placid 
Porker heaved a large sigh. 

“Gentlemen,” said Marcanna, “I have lately 
been studying pretty closely the history of the 
nineteenth century. It is singular to note with 
what respect — yes, with what positive fear — con- 
temporary writers of that period speak of what 
they call Public Opinion.” 

“What is Public Opinion?” asked Rockyfel- 
low. 

“I do not exactly know,” said Porker, to whom 
all were looking. “But that a mysterious, dead- 
ly force of that name previously existed is be- 
yond doubt, and that Demos is endeavoring to 
call it to life is equally positive.” 

Strange coincidence! At this very moment 
the phonograph of the Porker mansion, which 
was connected with the public circuit, began to 
talk, and the following sentences were heard in 
the voice of Demos : 


107 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“O, my brothers, let Public Opinion awaken 
and sweep all before it. The roar of the wind, 
the roll of the tide, the sweep of the avalanche, 
the plunge of the cataract, the flame of the sun, 
the shock of the thunderbolt, all gathered and 
blent in one, are as naught to the mysterious 
force of Public Opinion. Beware, O kings ! for 
light shall overwhelm the dark! Lift up your 
heads,. ye oppressed, for Liberty has drawn her 
sword of flame — Liberty, who like a new Venus, 
ariseth from a new sea — the sea of Public 
Opinion !” 

The five Nobles looked at each other aghast. 
The strong young voice was so confident that 
they trembled at its sound. They did not clearly 
understand the meaning of the words, but felt it 
was inimical to them. While they were staring 
at each other a telegram was brought to Porker. 

“Goodness gracious !” he exclaimed, as he read 
the dispatch, “the trouble has begun.” 

“What is the matter ?” they all cried. 

“I am boycotted.” 

The telegram was passed from hand to hand. 
It was too true. A boycott was declared against 
all the Swineherd's vast establishments at Chi- 
cago, Kansas City, and elsewhere. The cause 
was trivial, but that made the action more sin- 

m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


ister. A foreman in one of the packing-houses 
had declined to take a drink with a walking 
delegate. The delegate had promptly demanded 
the dismissal of the foreman, which had been re- 
fused, whereupon the boycott was declared. For 
over twenty-five years no similar action had been 
taken by walking delegates, who were all se- 
cretly on the payroll of the Money Trust. This 
exhibition of independence was indeed threaten- 
ing. 

“Gentlemen,” said Porker, gloomily, “this is 
a sad matter. Must my hams, my sausages, my 
lard, all my strictly first-class hog products, lie 
rotting in my storage warehouses?” 

“No, no,” spake up Pontmorgue encouraging- 
ly, “the Nobles will eat of them.” To which the 
other secretaries assented. 

“Of a few superfine brands only,” said Porker. 
“The bulk of my products would scarcely be 
appropriate on a Noble table. In a business way 
I cater to the masses.” 

“You have found it profitable,” remarked 
Blighter. 

“Very profitable, which makes this boycott the 
more exasperating. I haven’t the slightest doubt 
that Demos it at the bottom of it all.” 

“We might go short of hog-products,” said 

*09 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Blighter, musingly. “Somebody else has been 
doing it to an enormous extent lately. ,, 

Again a glance of fear passed from eye to eye. 
Could there be any connection between that fact 
and the boycott? 

“It is rather awkward to speculate on a friend’s 
troubles,” said Pontmorgue. 

“Unless the friend is in the deal,” added 
Rockyfellow. “If Porker, now, would join us 
in a bear syndicate ” 

“Impossible,” interrupted the Swineherd, “to 
be frank with you, I am pretty deeply involved on 
the other side.” 

“O, well,” said Pontmorgue, as if glad to re- 
lieve himself, “since we are to be frank, I will 
admit that I have been bulling things myself to 
some extent.” 

“So have I,” said Blighter, “I’m in up to my 
neck.” 

“Gentlemen,” said Rockyfellow, “is this on 
the dead level?” 

They assured him that it was, and their grow- 
ing fright, more than their statements, convinced 
him of their truthfulness. 

“Know, then,” he said, “that Marcanna and 
myself are in the same boat as you. We are 
jointly interested in heavy bull operations.” 

no 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“Yes,” said Marcanna, “and how does it hap- 
pen that we find ourselves all in the same boat?” 

They were seized with a veritable panic. There 
seemed to rise before them a terrible menacing 
figure — the figure of Vangold. Each one has- 
tened to tell how he had been led into his present 
position in the markets by confidential tips from 
their illustrious master. Yet it did not seem pos- 
sible that he could be playing them false, for the 
very existence of his Empire depended upon a 
prosperous and powerful order of Nobles. This 
mystery terrified them, and it was unanimously 
decided that they should at once seek the Em- 
peror and demand an explanation. Upon their 
arrival at the palace they were told that the Em- 
peror was closeted with his daughter, but that 
he would grant them an interview theYollowing 
morning. Compelled to be satisfied with this, 
they retired to their respective homes in woeful 
worriment, nor did it at all relieve them to hear 
trilled out from a public phonograph the follow- 
ing ribald parody of the national anthem: 

Slyest, spryest, scariest, stealthiest, 

Boom ! boom ! boom ! 

All expressed in one word, wealthiest, 

Boom ! boom ! boom ! 

itt 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Peal, alarm-bells! wave, pavilions! 

Boom ! boom ! boom ! 
Threatened is the man of millions, 

Boom ! boom ! boom ! 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER XII. 

That same evening — the twenty-seventh of 
July — the Emperor had retired to his private 
office immediately after dinner. In his office all 
imperial pomp was dispensed with and the mon- 
arch became the plain business man. It was a 
large square apartment on the second floor of the 
palace and it was burglar-proof. Entirely win- 
dowless, it was ventilated by an air-shaft which 
ran to the roof, ingress through which was pre- 
vented by a grating of steel bars, which 
could, however, be unlocked and slid 
along the ceiling by one inside the office, 
and as the shaft was fitted with a fixed 
ladder it was supposed that the Emperor at times 
used it for the reception of secret emissaries, 
who could, of course, easily reach the outside 
by an air-ship. The office was plainly furnished 
with two large cylinder desks, one for Vangold 
and one for his private secretary, a safe and a 
few chairs. The telegraphic, telephonic and 
phonographic apparatus centered on a switch- 
es 


The Monarch of Millions. 


board so ingeniously arranged that connection 
could be made instantaneously with any station 
or instrument in the world. Pekin was as ac- 
cessible as the house next door. Electricity lit 
the room with a perfect simulation of daylight. 

This evening Vangold did not summon his 
secretary, but sat at his desk alone in deep re- 
flection. Gone was the affable smile which he 
wore as a perpetual mask before men. The 
great brain was working and the face was left 
free to mirror thought. That he was dwelling 
on no ordinary topic was evident from the dull 
fire of his black eye and his blue eye, from the 
nervous twitching of his lips, that permitted his 
large sharp teeth to gleam through the parti- 
colored moustache. Seen thus, his quite ordinary 
features became transfigured and shone with the 
terrible majesty of concentrated force. The pe- 
culiarity of his double complexion added a touch 
of the grotesque. 

Rousing himself from his reverie he examined 
certain reports of the day’s transactions and en- 
tered their results in a small ledger, which proc- 
ess seemed to give him much satisfaction. He 
then went to the safe and opened it, revealing 
huge stacks of securities, carefully catalogued 
and ticketed. “All ready for immediate de- 

m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


livery,” he muttered, and then he indulged in a 
quiet, enjoyable, solitary laugh. 

Going to the telephone he called up his 
daughter and requested her to join him in the 
office. She came at once, and he closed the steel 
door, telling her that he wished a private con- 
versation with her. He had greeted her with his 
usual kiss and he spoke in the kindest, fatherliest 
way. He placed an easy chair for her close to 
his desk, at which he sat down. He looked at 
her and felt to the full the pardonable pride of 
paternity. She had removed her state dress and 
wore a loose dressing-gown quite carelessly 
girdled and unfastened at the top. The gown 
was of some red stuff which admirably set off 
her round white throat and noble bust. She had 
a peculiar trick in walking of throwing her head 
a little back of the perpendicular in a manner 
slightly haughty, yet charmingly provoking, and 
as she crossed the room this trait of carriage was 
more accented than usual, indicative of defiance. 

“I must confess,” said her father, “it is not 
surprising that you excite admiration! Really, 
my dear, you are grown quite a woman.” 

“Yes/’ she replied, “in the hot-house of love 
development is rapid.” 

“Tut, tut, my Sapphire is no hot-house flower, 

U5 


The Monarch of Millions. 

but a very costly specimen of the natural ar- 
ticle” 

This playful tone was not what she expected, 
and she regarded her imperial sire with some 
apprehension. 

“By-the-bye,” he continued, “how is your 
young man getting on?” 

She thought before replying, and vainly tried 
to study his face, over which strayed an enig- 
matical smile. 

“Demos is doing pretty well,” she said at last, 
“as of course you know.” 

“He is certainly making headway,” he ad- 
mitted. “He has done well to follow your in- 
structions, which were full of good sense.” 

“My instructions?” 

“Don’t be surprised, dear. I am obliged to 
keep myself posted. Listen.” He took a small 
phonograph from his desk which he set going 
and she heard repeated her interview with Demos 
in the widow’s parlor. The instructions she had 
given him, their vows of love, their very kisses, 
word for word, sound for sound, echoed through 
the room. 

“O,” she cried, blushing furiously, “this is 
shameful !” and she buried her face in her hands. 

“No,” he said, “it is business.” 

\\6 


The Monarch of Millions. 

Then curiosity overcame her and she asked 
eagerly, “How did you manage it?” 

“O, very simply. The widow is in my pay.” 

“Is everybody in your pay?” 

“By no means. I only buy up those who are 
useful to me. It would be silly extravagance to 
purchase promiscuously.” 

A great fear descended upon her. Was it 
possible to combat this all-powerful father whose 
hands, filled with money, reached everywhere, 
buying what he chose? Then a sudden thought 
struck her. 

“You knew, and did not stop him?” she asked. 

“As you see.” 

“But why?” 

“That is what I am going to tell you.” 

She had risen, flushed, dishevelled, panting, 
her glorious eyes ablaze. 

“Whatever you have to tell me, bear in mind — 
I love him, and you shall not harm him. To kill 
him, you must first kill me. I will defend him 
with my love, my life; yes, with this weak 

body ” and she smote her tender breast with 

her clenched hand, bruising it with the seal of 
her devotion. 

For once Vangold was startled from his calm. 
'You musn’t hurt yourself,” he cried, seizing 

M 


The Monarch of Millions. 


her hands. "Come, sit down — hear what I have 
to say.” He gently forced her into the chair, 
beside which he remained standing. Suddenly 
she burst into tears. "O, father,” she sobbed, 
"be merciful.” 

Patting her head the Emperor remained silent 
till the fit of weeping was exhausted. Ashamed 
of her weakness she quickly recovered compo- 
sure, using her sooth-all with instant benefit. 

"Are you feeling better?” asked Vangold. 

"I am ready,” she answered, quite coldly and 
firmly. 

He resumed his seat at his desk and sat facing 
her. 

"Four weeks ago, when your young man first 
appeared, I was much annoyed, as you may re- 
member. Harmless enough in himself, your pas- 
sion for him made him a nuisance.” 

"Demos a nuisance!” she murmured indig- 
nantly. 

"Distinctly a nuisance. Out of regard for you 
I gave him what I thought was a fair show. You 
know how absurdly he behaved — in fact we lis- 
tened to your sentiments just now on the phono- 
graph. I kept my eye on him, of course, and as 
soon as I heard your conversation with him I saw 
that you had made his scheme a possibility. The 

m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


family brains have not deteriorated in that little 
head and I compliment you. I don’t know ex- 
actly about the emotional portion of your inter- 
view, never having passed through a similar ex- 
perience, but don’t you think it was rather 
warm ?” 

“O, father,” she cried, "it would be impossible 
to be too warm to Demos.” 

“H’m ! A trifle more economy in the matter of 
kisses might perhaps be more in accord with pro- 
priety, but we will let that pass — the circum- 
stances were peculiar, I admit.” 

“He is the soul of propriety,” said Sapphire, 
rather feebly, her cheeks again aflame. 

“My first impulse was to suppress him at once, 
when the idea came to me which I flatter myself 
is both grand and gigantic — a worthy rounding 
out of my career.” 

“Does it affect my Demos?” 

“Yes.” 

“Favorably?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then whatever it is, I welcome it. My dear- 
est Demos.” And the lovely face softened with 
the glow of happiness. 

“I am going to make you my confidant,” said 
the Emperor. “I never had a confidant yet, but 

U9 


The Monarch of Millions. 


you are now a woman and my heiress, and, as I 
remarked before, you possess the family brains. 
I ask your close attention.” 

The monarch paused. He seemed to wish to 
gather his thoughts. His face again wore the 
faint habitual smile which rendered it inscrutable. 

“When I became Emperor a year ago it was 
not that I cared a rap for the title or the pomp 
of office. I had ruled the American people for a 
good many years as a private citizen and my 
assumption of official rank was solely in the inter- 
est of my fortune. It afforded me a plausible 
pretext for increased taxation, for the still closer 
consolidation of capital and the increase of 
monopolies. The change of government was a 
very easy matter, for republican institutions had 
long been the emptiest of forms. Do you follow 
me?” 

“Certainly,” said Sapphire. “You considered 
the throne a good investment?” 

“Precisely. My dear child, your quick com- 
prehension delights me. And the throne has 
been a good investment — a very good investment 
indeed.” 

“But what has all this to do with my Demos ?” 

“Patience. We are coming to that. I like the 
Emperorship as far as it goes, but it has its draw- 

120 


The Monarch of Millions. 


backs. To maintain a constitutional empire you 
must have a nobility, and despite the most in- 
genious precautions you cannot prevent your 
Nobles from getting altogether too rich. Such 
men as my Imperial Swineherd, not to mention 
others, are far too wealthy. I have continu- 
ously carried on little campaigns against them in 
the markets, but have not been able, so to speak, 
to more than nibble at their accumulations. I 
have long been trying to devise a way to clean the 
whole lot out at one swoop. That way I have 
found.” 

He spoke with a modest, dignified pride that 
was clearly warranted, as he looked benignly at 
his daughter. She listened intently, waiting to 
hear where her Demos came in. He guessed her 
thoughts. 

“You are anxious about your young man. 
Well, he is the key of my present manipulations.” 

He thoroughly enjoyed the intense surprise 
with which Sapphire received this statement. 

“He has unquestionably aroused Public Opin- 
ion. Personally I regard Public Opinion as I 
do the jackass, a thing to browse and bray 
whither it will ; but the jackass can be a very 
useful beast of burden. My emissaries are 
spreading the teachings of Demos far and wide. 

\2\ 


The Monarch of Millions. 


On the first day of August there will be con- 
certed uprisings all over the Empire. Air-ships 
will bring to Washington millions of men who 
will demand the restoration of the Republic and 
I shall abdicate.” 

“Abdicate?” she cried, in amazement. 

“Yes, my dear. I shall retire to private citi- 
zenship.” 

“And what will be the effect?” 

“The effect will be a panic in every market in 
the world. Everybody will fear everything. 
Confidence for the time-being will vanish — 
money will be hoarded — prices will drop out of 
sight.” 

“Still I don’t understand ” 

“Of course not. But you will when I tell you 
that I have sold everything short to everybody. 
Porker, the Secretaries, the Judges, the Nobles 
— all — all are long of everything — they will be 
ruined utterly, wiped out — I shall get all they 
have and they will still be in my debt. Prac- 
tically I shall own the entire national wealth.” 

He arose to his feet in exultation and his 
daughter for the first time saw him as he really 
was, the faint smile gone, the face as if carved by 
the Titanic will behind it. He seemed to dilate 
before her gaze, she could almost imagine that 
122 


The Monarch of Millions. 


lightning was flashing from his black eye and his 
blue eye. 

At this moment there was a knock at the door. 
An official brought the request of Porker and the 
Secretaries for an audience. As we know, the 
Emperor deferred it till the following morning. 

“Already they suspect,” he said ; “but they are 
too late. Any attempt on their part now to 
change their position would simply precipitate the 
catastrophe. But I don’t wish matters to be 
anticipated. I shall play my imperial role as 
usual until the first of August.” 

He walked up and down his office, seemingly 
forgetful of his daughter’s presence. 

“But how about my Demos?” she asked. 

“O, yes. Your Demos may live. The people 
will very likely do something nice for him.” 

“But may I marry him ?” 

“If it pleases you, child. As I shall be the 
only rich person left, money will cut no figure in 
your marriage.” 

With a cry of joy she threw herself into her 
father’s arms. 

“Not a word of this to him till after the first 
of August,” he said, to which she readily gave 
her promise. 


*23 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“But will you not run some personal danger?’’ 
she asked. 

“O, yes. I shall double my guard of pugilists 
and detectives. I shall take good care of 
myself.” 

“But will not the restored Republic regard you 
as an enemy ?” 

He laughed heartily. 

“My dear child, I shall own the Republic. If 
it suits me to change the style of government 
again I shall do it. I may decide on a strictly 
personal despotism later on. I have been much 
bothered in my time by congresses and judges.” 

“I don’t think Demos would approve such 
views,” she said, thoughtfully. 

“Demos be shocked !” he exclaimed, with sud- 
den exasperation. 

“O, father !” 

“I beg your pardon. I suppose I must swallow 
the young man on your account ; but, to be frank, 
he is not a pleasant dose.” 

“To me he is a draught of joy,” she replied, 
“and since you have granted him life I care not 
what else happens.” 

“We will let it go at that,” said the monarch. 

Then he gave her his arm and led her to her 
own rooms, where he left her with an affection- 

124 


The Monarch of Millions. 


ate good-night. He returned to his office and 
worked far into the night, quite alone. With his 
own imperial hand he sent scores of messages to 
all market centers, where vigilant agents awaited 
his orders day and night. With his own im- 
perial voice he telephoned to this place and to 
that, planning, plotting, directing, executing, 
holding in his grasp the thousand threads of his 
gigantic deal, before which all other deals were to 
pale and dwindle. 

True sovereign of the twentieth century! No 
need of titles to proclaim his royalty — the solid 
royalty of gold — from the yoke whereof can no 
man flee, nor wish to flee, for the love whereof 
do all men toil, or wish to toil. Gold, royal gold ! 
And homage to His Supreme Richness. 


125 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

The next day — the twenty-eighth of July — 
the Emperor called a meeting of the executive 
council of the National Money Trust for twelve 
o’clock. At ten o’clock he gave audience to 
Porker and the Secretaries. Those gentlemen 
were promptly on time and were received in his 
private office. They were laboring under great 
suppressed excitement and awaited with ill-dis- 
guised impatience the imperial permission to 
speak. However, the Emperor kept them wait- 
ing some twenty minutes before he arose from 
his desk. 

“Well, gentlemen,” he then said, “it’s a nice 
morning despite the weather predictions. 
Really, Marcanna, that weather bureau of yours 
needs a shake-up. I’m surprised the people 
stand it.” 

“The people !” gasped Marcanna, astounded to 
hear that word from the imperial mouth. 

“I beg pardon,” said Vangold, “a slip of the 
tongue.” And his eyes wandered from man to 

\2 6 


The Monarch of Millions. 


man, searchingly. His noble subjects were evi- 
dently uneasy. 

“Have you anything particular to say to me, 
gentlemen ? This is one of my busy days.” 

“Your Supreme Richness,” said Pontmorgue, 
“every employe on every railroad in the Empire 
has struck.” 

“Why?” 

“The Superintendent of the Marine Railway 
at Coney Island forgot to take his hat off to the 
brakeman of a west-bound train.” 

“What a reckless, foolhardy man,” observed 
Vangold. 

“Your Supreme Richness,” said Blighter, “I 
also have to report that every farmer on every 
farm has struck.” 

“And I,” added Rockyfellow, “that every 
colored man in every cotton-field has done like- 
wise.” 

“In fact,” said Marcanna, “in a general way 
every man, woman, child and infant in the 
realm has struck.” 

“Indeed,” said the Emperor. “But struck 
what ?” 

“Work.” 

“What a curious idea. It hasn't happened be- 


*27 


The Monarch of Millions. 


fore for a long time. What do you suppose is 
the reason of it, gentlemen ?” 

“Your Supreme Richness,” said Porker, “we 
have no doubt that the wretched Demos is at the 
bottom of the whole business.” 

“H’m! possibly. Perhaps it’s fortunate that 
he dies on the first proximo. We must see the 
thing through, gentlemen, we must see the thing 
through.” 

He spoke with a calm assurance that some- 
what relieved them. Not a shadow of their fear 
was visible in him. 

“When did you learn this news?” he asked. 

“This morning.” 

“But it was last night you asked for an audi- 
ence.” 

“Yes,” spoke up Porker, “but that was about 
something else.” 

“And that something else?” 

“The condition of the markets. For the past 
week everything has been steadily sinking. Un- 
der your advice we have constantly kept on buy- 
ing.” 

“Certainly,” said the Emperor. “We must 
sustain prices to sustain the Empire. Keep right 
on buying, gentlemen, keep right on. As long 
as our Empire lasts you will be all right.” 

m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“But yourself?” 

“It is self-evident that I have more at stake 
than any of you. Look.” And he threw open 
his safe, disclosing the enormous stack of securi- 
ties that almost filled the huge receptacle. “You 
see I play with my cards on the table.” 

The stroke was conclusive. The almost fabu- 
lous pile of securities dazzled them. It was im- 
possible for their owner not to be on the bull 
side. 

“Who can be the sellers?” cried Pontmorgue. 

“Foreigners, no doubt,” answered Vangold, 
“who think these pratings of Demos mean some- 
thing. Little do they know us, my friends, and 
our vast resources. We will hang their hides on 
our fences before long. You have, I presume, 
received your notices of the meeting called for 
twelve o’clock of the executive council ? At that 
meeting I shall propose active concerted bull 
measures. Can I rely on your support, gentle- 
men ?” 

“You know that I shall be found with you,” 
said Porker. “Am I not already boycotted ?” 

“I have heard something of that, my poor 
friend. How much of you is affected?” 

“My hams, sideribs, lard, sausages; in fact, 
all of me.” 


129 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“Dear, dear — it's very annoying.” 

“As for myself and my colleagues,” said 
Rockyfellow, “I assure you we will stay by your 
Supreme Richness till the last bright dollar shall 
have winged its way down the bottomless abyss 
of bankruptcy.” 

“Then you will stay by me till an extremely 
cold day shall have dawned. Gentlemen, I thank 
you. Your devotion is touching. But to take 
all precautionary measures — how is the Ameri- 
can Army?” asked the Emperor of Marcanna. 

“On its customary active and efficient footing. 
Potting Asiatics in the outlying provinces.” 

“Good, the gallant boys must have their nerve 
well in hand. And the air-fleet?” 

“Exercising along the Jersey coast and other 
summer resorts.” 

“Capital. Their courage is being well tem- 
pered. Be of good heart, gentlemen. I shall 
see you at noon in New York.” 

Taking this as a dismissal, the Nobles left the 
imperial presence much comforted by their inter- 
view. Vangold possessed in a high degree the 
faculty of transmitting confidence. 

The Emperor passed into the Money Hall, z 
room of the palace to which all Nobles had ac- 


*30 


The Monarch of Millions. 


cess in the morning. He found a great crowd 
assembled, each man eager for a private word or 
two, and each man got it. To all he whispered, 
“Buy, buy — ” and all rushed out and bought. 
Prices actually moved up a point or two, and the 
Nobles grew jubilant at this seeming evidence 
that the tide had turned. Faith in Vangold that 
had wavered for a few hours was completely re- 
stored, and as he entered his airship to fly to 
New York, where the executive council was to 
meet, he was hailed with thunderous acclama- 
tions. Never had the Empire appeared more 
splendid or more firmly founded. The words 
of Demos were laughed at, the strikes disre- 
garded. 

The public phonographs of New York an- 
nounced the arrival of the monarch. On the 
Stock Exchange floated the imperial standard 
above the national flag. At the Harlem the 
royal airship descended to within ten feet of the 
ground and sailed slowly down Columbus 
Avenue, through the Imperial Plaisance to 
Broadway, and thence to the Stock Exchange. 
The route was packed with millions of his sub- 
jects, straining their eyes to catch a glimpse of 
His Supreme Richness and filling the air with 
deafening hurrahs. Vangold sat in his ship, the 
t3f 


The Monarch of Millions. 


door open, smiling and bowing to right and left. 
It so chanced that at Madison Square Demos 
was delivering an oration. He saw the Em- 
peror approach and pointing at him in a most im- 
polite way, shouted : “Behold the monster 
whom you worship, his feet upon your necks — ” 
which was certainly not true, for the royal feet 
were resting on a hassock — “See him as he rides 
above you, stuffed with his millions, crammed 
with the gold for which you have toiled.” 

“Down with him !” roared some Nobles, 
rushing on Demos threateningly. But, strange 
to say, a crowd of plebeians surrounded the ora- 
tor, and while offering no violence, would not 
permit the Nobles to break through. 

“Peace!” commanded Vangold, with his ring- 
ing metallic voice. “In my realm each is free to 
speak his mind. Young man,” he said, address- 
ing Demos personally, “speak your piece as you 
will, but don’t contract bad manners and be vul- 
garly personal. It’s very bad form.” And the 
imperial airship moved on. Demos was stag- 
gered. He thought to have seen the Emperor’s 
black eye distinctly wink at him, but dismissed 
the idea as impossible. Certainly his blue eye 
had remained wide open. The incident put him 
out and he could not continue orating for almost 
132 


The Monarch of Millions. 


twenty minutes, when he regained his voice and 
poured forth fresh eloquence. 

Meanwhile the Emperor reached the Stock Ex- 
change and was received by the Board of Gov- 
ernors, who all knelt in the Broad Street en- 
trance. As he crossed the threshold the market 
rose another point, whereat he smiled. The Ex- 
ecutive Council was to meet in the Board Room. 
At precisely noon Vangold assumed the chair 
and called the meeting to order. He was not 
now acting as Emperor, but as president of the 
Trust, so he took off his crown and laid it down 
on the desk before him. He at once made the 
following remarks : 

“Gentlemen, this meeting has been called to 
confront a grave emergency. A party by the 
name of Demos has succeeded in raising a cer- 
tain amount of Public Opinion” — (groans) — 
“against our financial system” — (groans). “A 
general strike has developed. Prices have de- 
clined. Gentlemen, prices must go up again” — 
(cheers) — “public opinion must be muzzled” — 
(cheers) — “strikes must be suppressed. Gentle- 
men, there is only one way on earth that I know 
of to put up prices and that is to buy” — (great 
cheers) — “I move that it is the sense of this meet- 


133 


The Monarch of Millions. 


ing that everybody buys everything, and woe to 
him who sells.” — (Prolonged cheers.) 

The motion was unanimously carried and 
prices jumped a couple of points. The Emperor 
showed himself on the floor of the Exchange 
and, just for example, personally bought a few 
thousand shares. The enthusiasm was immense. 
Still, certain shrewd old operators noticed that 
there was plenty of stuff for sale all the time, but 
the great mass of buyers would not listen to them. 
Predictions of a boom were heard everywhere. 
Unable to restrain himself and ashamed of hav- 
ing doubted Vangold, Porker flung up his helmet 
and shouted, “Long live the Emperor!” The 
crowd on the floor took up the cry, it spread to 
the street outside, it passed up Broadway, and 
from one end of the city to the other arose the 
roar of multitudes, “Long live the Emperor !” 

“A pretty good day’s work,” thought Vangold 
as he re-entered his airship and flew to Wash- 
ington. It was not much past fourteen o’clock 
when he again entered the palace. Prices were 
still rising, but Demos was still holding forth 
at Madison Square with unabated ardor and ap- 
parently quenchless voice. The lungs of Demos 
seemed exhaustless, but then the young man was 
talking against time, with a horrible fate now 
J34 


The Monarch of Millions. 


only four days off unless he succeeded in his 
efforts. Who would not talk with such an in- 
centive? — to say nothing of his passionate love 
of Liberty and his adoration of the Princess Sap- 
phire, from whom that morning he had received 
words of hope. She had called him up before he 
had begun work for the day. 

“Demos,” she had said, “be of good cheer. 
Your speeches of late have been very powerful 
and are doing the job.” 

“I feel I have been real eloquent,” he had 
answered, “but ten days is so short a time. If 
I could orate for ten years now ” 

“Nonsense. No people in the world would 
stand it, my love. I, too, have been working. 
Have no fear. More I cannot say.” 

“That’s very unsatisfactory.” 

“I know it, and am very sorry I cannot go fur- 
ther. But trust me — trust me.” 

“Have you been working your father?” 

“Yes — that much I may say.” 

“And is the old gentleman more friendly?” 

“Dearest, my lips are sealed.” 

“But this puts me in an awkward position.” 

“No, it doesn’t. Go right on in the path you 
are treading. Orate more powerfully than ever, 
if possible.” 


*35 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“I fear that is not possible.” 

“Well, do your best. Good bye, dear. Aurea 
has come to fix my back hair.” 

And as we have seen with our own eyes and 
heard with our own ears, Demos had gone forth 
to thunder noble thoughts, and had actually 
bearded the lion in his airship. True, he had 
fancied the lion had winked at him, but surely 
that could not be. 

However, he ate a hearty dinner, put in a good 
evening’s work and retired to bed lighter of heart 
than he had been for some time. To be tele- 
phoned cheeringly was at least consoling when 
the voice that telephoned was the voice of true 
affection. He who loves, hopes. 


13 6 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

July the twenty-ninth, the Emperor held an 
auction sale of vacant offices. His explanation 
was that in all crises the first thing to do is to 
raise money. Enough vacancies existed to real- 
ize a handsome sum, and they were all to be 
thrown on the market. At these sales the right 
was reserved to reject any and all bids. The 
auction took place in the Throne-room of the 
palace, an immense chamber, in the decoration of 
which no expense had been spared. The throne 
itself stood on a dais supported by two golden 
life-size hogs. It was of most cunningly carven 
ivory, which at first sight seemed to represent 
bouquets of flowers, but closer examination 
showed that every leaf, bud and blossom was a 
facsimile of some coin of the Empire. The car- 
ver had exercised the utmost ingenuity in creat- 
ing this pleasing illusion. Below the dais was 
a tribune for the official use of the Imperial 
Swineherd. Two handsome tables flanked the 
137 


The Monarch of Millions 


tribune for the accommodation of reporters. 
The walls were hung with gorgeous tapestries, 
emblazoned with the imperial arms. 

At twelve o’clock the Emperor ascended the 
throne and the Swineherd took possession of the 
tribune. A large number of Nobles were present, 
apparently in an unhappy frame of mind. In 
fact, the markets of the morning had developed 
alarming weakness. All the buoyancy of the 
preceding day had disappeared and prices were 
rapidly sinking. Vangold alone maintained his 
usual composure and attended strictly to the 
business in hand. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, “we have some very 
choice and desirable offices for sale to-day at 
reasonable terms. The assortment is large 
enough to suit any taste and I anticipate some 
lively bidding. First permit me to call your at- 
tention to the ambassadorship to the Court of St. 
James, a most attractive position, with a large 
salary and next to nothing to do. The social re- 
finement to be acquired at that historic court, in 
quite a short time, is of particular value to a 
Noble who in the pursuit of wealth has not found 
leisure to properly polish himself. To all such I 
recommend this berth warmly. Other things be- 
ing equal, I shall discriminate against men of 
*38 


The Monarch of Millions. 


culture. Poets and literary persons are ineligi- 
ble. Mr. Swineherd, put it up.” 

“What am I offered,” cried Porker, “for the 
ambassadorship to Great Britain ? Come, gentle- 
men, something to start with — don’t be bashful. 
Do I hear a bid? What am I offered?” 

Not a bid was heard — not a solitary bid. 
Thrice the Swineherd repeated his stentorian cry, 
but dead silence was the only response. It was 
incredible, unheard of, and Porker grew pale 
with fear. He looked at his master, but the face 
of Vangold was, as ever, unreadable, the faint 
smile, perhaps, tinged with contempt. 

“They don’t bid,” gasped Porker. 

“So it seems,” replied the Emperor, calmly, 
“let us try them with something else.” 

“Gentlemen,” he announced, “it does not seem 
to be a favorable day for embassies. A domestic 
article would, perhaps, be preferred. Allow me 
to offer you the Governorship of the Philippines. 
Need I dilate upon the many advantages of that 
office? Its patronage and perquisites in the 
hands of an industrious governor are valuable 
aids to a noble career. It has always and justly 
been held in the highest esteem by practical men 
with a turn for money making. It will probably 


139 


The Monarch of Millions. 

come high, but it will be worth every cent given 
for it. Now, Mr. Swineherd, put it up.” 

Thrice again the voice of Porker rang through 
the hall, and again deep silence followed his coax- 
ing appeals. A cold sweat bedewed his portly 
person and in veritable terror he turned to Van- 
gold, who sat upon his throne, politely imper- 
turbable. The monarch glanced at the silent 
throng with something of disdain. He knew 
what the trouble was. The falling markets, the 
strikes and the agitation of Demos were doing 
their work. In the reaction from the enthusi- 
astic outburst of the day before, men hesitated to 
buy anything, even offices. He saw the signs of 
the approaching panic with the sacred joy of the 
successful manipulator, but he gave no outward 
sign of his satisfaction. On the contrary he 
leaned over to Porker with an air of vexation, 
saying, “This is most peculiar. What do you 
think it means?” 

“Your Supreme Richness,” replied Porker, “it 
is a very alarming state of affairs. I am at a 
loss to account for it.” 

“Have you anything particularly choice to try 
them with?” 

“There's a Chicago Aldermanship.” 


140 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“The very thing. If they don’t bite at that, we 
might as well quit.” 

“Gentlemen,” he at once announced, “I now 
place before you an office of great dignity and 
remarkable utility — an office which is, perhaps, 
as sure a road to wealth and high preferment as 
any in the Empire — an office which requires no 
special preparation on the part of the incumbent, 
although previous experience in the liquor busi- 
ness does not hurt. It is a Chicago Alderman- 
ship. In addition to other advantages, aldermen 
are now, by special statute, exempt from jail, a 
privilege of value upon which it is needless to 
expatiate. Mr. Swineherd, put it up.” 

Yet thrice again the voice of Porker rose and 
fell, but even the aldermanship attracted no bids. 
The Emperor rose to his feet. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I am forced to the 
conclusion that a spirit of disaffection is 
abroad. You certainly must admit that such 
offices as have been submitted to you are usually 
sold for good round sums. Why this apathy?” 

“Your Supreme Richness,” answered an aged 
Noble named Hustle Cage, “we are all men of 
means and have carefully studied your precepts 
and example. It looks as if there were danger 
ahead, and we are inclined to go slow.” 

m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“Danger?” repeated Vangold. “And if there 
be do you not owe me allegiance? Am I not 
your head and front? Would you leave me to 
fight alone and single-handed?” 

“What would you do in our place ?” 

“The question is irrelevant. I couldn’t pos- 
sibly be in your place. But of one thing be as- 
sured. Danger to the Empire means ruin to you 
all. It is only by active, intelligent and unceas- 
ing co-operation that wealth can rule. Go forth, 
my friends, and buy — buy everything.” 

“We have bought,” roared the noble throng. 

“Buy more. Stretch your means to the limit, 
use your credit to the utmost. Remember that I, 
your Emperor, am still on top, and, permit me to 
add, extremely likely to remain so.” 

Once more the strange magnetism of the man 
subdued all opposition. Confidence was born 
again at the sound of the clear metallic voice. In 
the imperial presence to doubt seemed impossible, 
and the Nobles hastened to their offices eager to 
transmit purchasing orders to the various specu- 
lative centers. Thus did the dexterous Vangold 
turn the very dissatisfaction of his subjects to his 
personal profit, as with firm hand he made all 
currents flow toward the cataract of the coming 
catastrophe. 


142 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Accompanied by Porker and the secretaries, he 
repaired to the Cabinet room, at the door of which 
he found an aged negro waiting, of very ven- 
erable aspect. At the sight of the Emperor the 
old negro seemed overwhelmed with joy. 

“Why, Massa Vangole,” he cried, “Massa Van- 
gole, de libin’ image of yo’ fader.” 

“Hallo! who are you?” asked the Emperor. 

“Don’ yo’ know de ole man who so often nussed 
yo’ in his arms an’ tole yo’ sto’ies ob de gole- 
bugs ?” 

“O, it's you, is it?” said the Emperor, not un- 
kindly. 

“Gentlemen, this is an old retainer, the cus- 
todian of the family farmhouse where my grand- 
father, the original Vangold, was born, and 
where he likewise died.” 

“How touching,” murmured the others. 

“By-the-bye, what’s your name?” asked the 
Emperor. 

“I’se done clean forgot, Massa Vangole. But 
I’se washed fo’ Gen’l Washington and cooked 
fo’ Gen’l Grant. Dey calls me de Oldest Inhabi- 
tant.” 

“We have frequently heard and read of you,” 
said Porker. “How are Veritas, Pro Bono Pub- 


The Monarch of Millions. 


lico, Constant Reader, and the rest of your inter- 
esting family ?” 

“Jests from our Swineherd are jests indeed,” 
observed the Emperor playfully. “But what 
brings you here?” he asked of the negro. 

“Jes’ dis.” And the Oldest Inhabitant ex- 
tracted an ancient looking document from his 
pocket. “Las’ night I wuz a-cleanin' out de 
chicken-coop in de back-yard. Yo’ reklect it, 
Mass Vangole, de back-yard war yo’ swallud de 
litT gole dollar in play.” 

“I recollect it perfectly,” said Vangold. “Child- 
like I swallowed the dollar, and, gentlemen, 
nothing they gave me could get it away from 
somewhere in my inside. I presume it is in me 
now.” 

“A touching, prophetic accident,” said Mar- 
canna. 

“The question is, was I a dollar out or a dollar 
in?” And the Emperor motioned the negro to 
proceed. 

“One of de boards ob de coop wuz loose, Massa 
Vangole. Underneaf it I foun’ dis yah papah.” 
He handed the document to the Emperor. 

“Why, what is this ?” said Vangold, examining 
the paper. “Goodness gracious ! It is my 


The Monarch of Millions. 


father’s will. He was supposed to have died 
intestate.” 

He ran his eyes rapidly down the sheet and 
his parti-colored face grew dusky. For a mo- 
ment he seemed seized with uncontrollable fear. 
“Accursed Demos! accursed chicken-coop!” he 
muttered. 

“Can you read ?” he asked the negro, dragging 
him out of earshot of the others. 

“No.” 

“Have you shown this to anyone?” 

“No.” 

“Good.” 

Whatever the emotion was that agitated him, 
he now mastered it. Turning to Porker and the 
secretaries he said, “Gentlemen, excuse me. A 
voice, as it were, from the grave, is affecting.” 

They murmured their sympathy, for which he 
thanked them. Then he summoned a guard and 
committed the negro to his charge, with strict 
instructions to conduct him to the farmhouse at 
once by airship, and to allow him to talk to no 
one. The negro gone, they all entered the Cab- 
inet room. 

“Gentlemen,” said the Emperor, “it is time to 
stop this crisis. Three days hence Demos dies. 
He will be in Washington Monday night. Arrest 
145 


The Monarch of Millions. 


him on arrival — let no one communicate with 
him — execute him at the first legal minute pos- 
sible. Porker, you will make instant prepara- 
tions. No other business will be considered till 
this job is done.” 

Accepting this as a dismissal, Porker and the 
secretaries took their departure and the Em- 
peror retired to his private office. Once there, 
he read the will over carefully and then, strange 
to say, placed it in the breast pocket of his coat. 
Why he did not destroy it is inexplicable. Per- 
haps there was a certain fascination in thus play- 
ing with fate, perhaps he was so preoccupied that 
the action was mechanical. Denying himself to 
everyone, he sat intently thinking, balancing in 
his mind the various phases of the immense in- 
trigue he was directing. Decision came at last, 
yet evidently with reluctance, for these words es- 
caped his lips : “My poor Sapphire.” 


14 6 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER XV. 

July the thirtieth was Sunday and Porker spent 
it at home. He was highly delighted at the posi- 
tive orders he had received regarding Demos. He 
now felt sure that the young man was the origin 
of all the existing disturbances, and the prospect 
of his early demise was soothing. With Demos 
out of the way, he reflected, things would speedily 
return to their normal channels, prices would re- 
vive, public opinion be squelched and the Empire 
move serenely on the old footing. So pleasant 
were these thoughts that when evening came the 
good man fairly bubbled into gayety and cracked 
ponderous jokes in the bosom of his family. 
Aurea did not fail to notice this change in her 
father’s mood. 

“Dear papa,” she asked, “is the boycott on you 
raised ?” 

“Not yet.” 

“O — you seemed so merry — I thought, per- 
haps ” 


*47 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“A man may be boycotted and yet be merry, 
may he not?” 

“I cannot say. Merriment and I have so long 
parted company that I am no judge.” 

The dear girl’s voice was saturated with sad- 
ness. It was easy to see that her thoughts were 
far away. Porker was annoyed. 

“Look here, Miss,” he said, “I want this fool- 
ing to stop. I suppose the Princess has been en- 
couraging you in your silly notions. Well, she 
will have to take her medicine, too. Her precious 
Demos will be exterminated in about twenty-four 
hours.” 

“O, papa, you don’t mean it ?” 

“I certainly do.” 

“Why, she was sure the Emperor would re- 
lent.” 

“Well, he won’t. As for your preposterous 
affinity, I’ll run him in at once.” 

Aurea fainted. Summoning proper assistance, 
her father went his way. When she revived, her 
first impulse was to seek her adored Bill and put 
him on his guard. 

That man of theoretical violence was eating his 
modest Sunday meal of sausages and beer at his 
accustomed abiding-place. About him discussion 
ran high on current events. He listened to the 

*48 


The Monarch of Millions. 


flow of talk with benevolent tolerance. It seemed 
to be the general impression that Demos was do- 
ing good work for the cause. The young disciple 
whom we have previously met was loud in praise, 
and spoke of Demos as a pioneer blazing the way 
through the forest of Prejudice to the smiling 
lands of Anarchy. Loud cheers greeted the 
young disciple’s effort. 

“Brothers,” said Bill, at last, “brothers, you 
are on the wrong tack. If Demos succeeds, we 
exchange the rule of millions for the rule of the 
farmer and the artisan, who firmly believe that 
men like us should work for a living. We should 
still be very much left — we who are starving — ” 
here he choked on a rather large piece of sausage 
he was trying to swallow while talking, and was 
only brought to by a copious libation. “We who 
are starving,” he continued, “can find plenty in 
but one way, and that way is pure and simple 
Anarchy. By excessive labor, which is fraud, 
many men have accumulated things that we 
should like to have. Anarchy gives us the right 
to take those things. O, my brethren, how beau- 
tiful is Anarchy! armed with dynamite, anointed 
with petroleum, clothed in holy rags and tatters. 
Her right hand threatens while her left hand 
appropriates, or vice versa. The glorious mis- 
H9 


The Monarch of Millions. 


sionary work to be done by one small bomb is 
only surpassed by that which can be done by two 
small bombs, or more. Be not led astray by false 
prophets, but diligently shoot, burn, explode, and 
otherwise remove the wretches who pile up prop- 
erty. Always shall my voice be lifted up, always 
shall I egg ye on — I, the terror of tyrants. 
Vive TAnarchie !” 

Deafening hurrahs followed this impassioned 
peroration, during which Bill passed round the 
hat and gathered in a modest number of small 
coins. It was collection day and he had to rise 
to the occasion. While he was counting the sum 
realized the widow entered and informed him 
that Aurea was in the parlor and desirous of im- 
mediate speech with him, whereupon he hastened 
upstairs. 

As he entered the room, Aurea’s face lit up 
with a curious mixture of joy and fear. Pipe in 
mouth, and puffing heavily, he maintained a surly 
composure. She clasped her hands and bent her 
head in an imploring attitude. He had forbidden 
her at any time to talk to him without his per- 
mission. Motioning her to him, he chucked her 
under the chin. It was the only familiarity that 
ever passed between them, and it was the sign 
that she might speak. 


150 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“Perplexing thing,” she murmured, “accept 
anew my adoration.” 

“Stop it!” said the Anarchist. “If that’s all 
you’ve got to say, good-bye.” And he turned 
as if to leave. 

“But it isn’t all — I came to warn you.” 

“None of your little games, now.” 

“Indeed it is no little game. Father has 
threatened to run you in at once.” 

She could not have hit him in a more tender 
spot, for the one thing that the Anarchist most 
dreaded was being run in. The very phrase itself 
had a police flavor to it which drove the color 
from his face and made his knees knock together. 

“What have I done,” he whined, “that I should 
be run in? This is a free country, isn’t it? I’m 
a peaceful man, ain’t I? It’s all along of you! 
Curse the day you hoodooed me ! Why can’t you 
let me alone?” And he went on growling under 
his breath, while his eyes squinted malevolently 
at the fair girl. 

“O, ugly, yet attractive darling,” she exclaimed, 
“don’t look at me that way! Really, I’m not to 
blame. It’s all because of Demos.” 

“I’m not responsible for Demos.” 

“But he’s to be executed and you’re to be run 
in.” 

i5i 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“It’s a shame, a burning shame — it’s cruelty to 
a harmless man — that’s what it is. Something 
must be done.” 

“But what?” 

“Is the Princess on to it?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“You must see her at once. What in thunder 
are women good for anyhow, except to keep us 
out of scrapes? You’re always blowing about 
your devotion. Suppose you do something. Me 
run in ? What an outrage !” 

His anger actually overcame his fear, as he 
glared indignantly at the fascinated Aurea, who, 
overcome by mixed emotions, sank upon her 
knees before him and would fain have kissed his 
hands. 

“Not much,” said Bill, crossing those unwashed 
members behind his burly back. “You get me 
out of this and maybe I’ll let you. You go to the 
Princess, and be mighty quick about it. I’ll wait 
in the garden until you come back. If I’m run 
in before you return, that ends it. See?” 

“If they run you in,” she cried, “I’ll run you 
out ! Love laughs at police stations ! Revolting, 
yet resistless paradox, I fly to save you !” 

Aurea sped to the palace, leaving Bill to lurk 
in the garden — a prey to fearful forebodings. 
152 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Every shadow seemed to him cast by a helmet or 
a club; the little whispers of the wind reverber- 
ated in his ears like echoes of official voices — so 
truly terrible to an Anarchist is the sound, the 
sight, the thought, the hint of the tyrannous 
Police. But all was quiet, nothing broke the 
stillness of the summer night, save the clocks that 
rang out twenty- four, ushering in July the thirty- 
first. 


*53 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Sapphire listened to Aurea’s disclosures with 
incredulity. She believed herself entirely conver- 
sant with her father’s plans, and thought the 
order for the execution of Demos must be part 
of the comedy he was playing. Still, anything 
affecting her lover moved her to uneasiness and 
she determined to seek her father at once. Bid- 
ding Aurea await her return she went to the Em- 
peror’s private office. The monarch was alone 
and extremely busy at his switchboard. 

“Can you grant me a few minutes ?” she asked. 

“Always,” he replied, kindly, turning on his 
revolving chair and facing her. 

“I have just learned that you have ordered the 
execution of Demos for to-morrow.” 

“Yes, I have.” 

“Of course you don’t mean it?” 

He looked at her intently, trying to read her 
emotions. He confessed to himself his inability 
to correctly value a woman’s love. Of course it 
must have its price, but data and quotations were 
*54 


The Monarch of Millions. 


lacking. Skilled trader as he was in the passions 
of men, he had never bothered with the sentiments 
of women — an oversight which he now regretted. 
It distressed him to see anxiety flash into the 
lovely face before him as the Princess awaited 
his reply. Finally she repeated her question: 

“Of course you don’t mean it ?” 

“Yes,” he said at last, slowly, “I do mean it.” 

“Father!” 

He fairly winced at the horror and the indigna- 
tion of the cry, at the mingled anger and con- 
tempt which flamed from the great gray eyes so 
steadily regarding him. Was he, the mighty 
multi-millionaire, the imperial arbiter of fortune, 
to be judged by this girl, the issue of his own 
loins? Not without an effort. She, too, must 
have her price and he was perfectly willing to pay 
it in any way but one. She stirred his pride and 
commanded his respect. He would treat with 
her as an equal. Surely she would understand. 

“Sapphire,” he began, and there was a slight 
waver in the clear metallic voice — “Sapphire, you 
shall have an explanation. Listen carefully.” 

“I will listen.” 

She stood so still and white that only the slow 
heaving of her breast and the fierce glitter of her 
eyes proclaimed her living — an image of the re- 

155 


The Monarch of Millions. 

pose of wrath. The little bells on the switchboard 
suddenly jangled. The Princess, surcharged 
with electricity and without her glass chemiloon, 
was running over. 

“My dear child,” cried Vangold, “restrain 
yourself. You will spoil my apparatus.” 

She quickly stepped upon a square of glass, 
provided for such emergencies, and the currents 
of her body thus suddenly intercepted broke for 
a moment into a myriad sparks that played about 
her like an aurora. 

“Proceed,” she remarked. 

“My daughter,” said the Emperor, “our bar- 
gain of some ten days since was made on my part 
in entire good faith. I was then perfectly willing 
that your young man should live. But circum- 
stances alter cases.” 

“Not love cases,” she interrupted. 

“I am not prepared to grant that, although I 
admit ignorance on the point to some extent. But 
let that pass. A certain fact came to my knowl- 
edge yesterday which makes the existence of 
Demos a vital menace to me. There is no longer 
room for both of us. I am forced, in self-defence, 
to put an end to him.” 

“What have you learned?” 

“I prefer to keep that private. But this much 

156 


The Monarch of Millions. 


I will tell you — if he knew what I know, my 
entire fortune would be imperilled. I should ac- 
tually be liable to poverty. You and I would be- 
come plebeians/’ 

“As you are about to abdicate and restore the 
Republic, there will be no more plebeians.” 

“Under the present circumstances I cannot ab- 
dicate. An exterminated Demos means the con- 
tinuance of the Empire.” 

“And your great deal?” 

“I must abandon it. I can cover my line of 
shorts at a small profit or a small loss and actively 
lead the bull campaign. True, my wretched 
Nobles will be further enriched, but I can bide 
my time and dump them later on.” 

Her keen and rational share in this conversa- 
tion pleased the Emperor. He had feared tears 
and pleadings. Argument agreed with him. 

“Of course,” he resumed, “it will be an un- 
pleasant wrench for you, but I am preserving 
your future as well as my own. As my sole 
heiress you will inevitably become Empress some 
day, but prove to me that you are a worthy child 
of mine, make no fuss about your young man, 
and you need not wait for my demise, which is 
probably a long way off, but you shall from this 
day share my riches and my rank. I will pro- 
*57 


The Monarch of Millions. 

claim you joint ruler with imperial titles and 
power.” 

Never before, in the history of the world, had 
such a stupendous bribe been offered. Surely he 
had made an acceptable bid. 

“I refuse,” she said. 

"Why?” he asked, in dismayed astonishment. 

"Because I love.” 

"O, tut, tut!” said Vangold, now thoroughly 
put out, "that is all nonsense, you know. I have 
been making inquiries of competent authorities 
lately. Great scientists tell me that love is an 
animal instinct which dies quickly from gratifica- 
tion, rather more slowly from neglect. Eminent 
realistic novelists say that it is purely a matter 
of habit or heredity. Certain philosophers deny 
the existence of love, deeming it an imagination 
of egotism. Physicians admit its existence, but 
diagnose it as a sporadic disease of the nerves 
susceptible to easy treatment. Fools and poets 
alone hug the delusion. Love is a chimera.” 

"Love is life,” said Sapphire. 

"Nonsense. Accept my offer and you will soon 
get over that little episode.” 

"Father, I shall never get over it. With every 
breath, with every pulse I yearn for him unutter- 
ably. To lose him is to blot the stars from the 
J58 


The Monarch of Millions. 


sky, to wither the flowers from the field, to make 
of me an empty battery, a currentless magnet.” 

With this she broke into passionate sobbing 
and the color came surging to her cheeks. She 
swayed and would have fallen but Vangold 
caught her and supported her. 

“Father,” she implored, “hear this, my last ap- 
peal. Let him be mine. For, O, I love him so !” 

“I’m extremely sorry, but it is out of the ques- 
tion.” 

She tore herself from him in a sudden transport 
of fury. 

“He shall not die!” she cried; “I will save 
him !” 

Vangold smiled pityingly. He was really 
grieved that she would not be reasonable, but he 
was not to be moved. There was a knock at the 
door. It was a message from Porker asking that 
he might have immediate audience on important 
business. Knowing that he would not be dis- 
turbed at such an hour without good cause the 
Emperor decided to see him. 

“You are in no condition to meet company,” 
he said to Sapphire; “I will receive him outside 
and return as soon as I can.” With which he 
left the office, closing the door behind him. 

In great crises it often happens that the in- 

159 


The Monarch of Millions. 


tellect becomes paralyzed, leaving dumb instinct 
regnant. Sapphire looked vacantly about the 
room as if salvation for her lover were a material 
thing to be found within its walls. The furniture, 
the electric fittings, everything, seemed to possess 
a curious interest to her. Suddenly her gaze was 
riveted on the sliding steel grating that barred 
the airshaft. Some idea seemed to be trying to 
force recognition. She stood beneath the shaft 
and looked up. A single star was visible, very 
clear and bright, as if a friendly eye were watch- 
ing from the outer heavens. As she saw it the 
struggling idea leaped to life. Her face grew 
luminous with hopeful daring. She ran to the 
door and turned the key, securing privacy, and 
again examined the grating. It was some four- 
teen feet from the floor. How to reach it? A 
rapid glance at the available furniture showed 
there was no help in that direction, but the grat- 
ing must be gained. A woman’s wits, afire with 
love, would make a bridge of a moonbeam or a 
ladder of a cobweb. Like lightning she whipped 
off her wrapper and tore it into strips, from which 
she improvised a rope nearly twenty feet long, 
to one end of which she attached a small paper 
weight. With careful aim she threw the weight- 
ed end at the grating. At the third attempt she 
160 


The Monarch of Millions. 


was successful. The weight passed over one of 
the bars and dropped on the other side. She 
caught it as it fell and tied the two ends of her 
strips together. She now had a rope of nearly 
ten feet hanging from the grating. To go up it 
hand over hand was, for Sapphire, a simple gym- 
nasium exercise, and in less time than it takes to 
tell, she was at the grating. Supporting herself 
on her left hand, with her right hand she slid 
back the massive bolt that held the bars in place. 
Would they slide easily? To test it, she now 
hung from the center bar, as from a trapeze, and 
began swinging to and fro with increasing rapid- 
ity, a vaulting vision of loveliness. 

O, Demos, what wert thou, or what were any 
mere man, to inspire such devotion? Look at 
the eager face with eyes intent and lips firm set, 
at the lithe strong arms, bare to the shoulder, at 
the visibly straining, panting bosom, at the Diana 
limbs, at the whole fair form alive with rushing 
rhythmic motion — look and marvel! — look, and 
worship ! 

Faster and faster she flew until having ac- 
quired sufficient momentum, she flung her body 
upward and struck her feet against the furthest 
of the bars facing her. At the shock the grating 
rolled open. It was evidently in working order. 

\ 6 \ 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Reversing her position she at once reshut the 
grating and slid to the floor. She quickly got 
possession of her rope and then collapsed with 
dismay. It had suddenly occurred to her that she 
was without a dress. Unlocking and opening the 
door of the office, she timidly peeped out. No 
one was in sight. Gathering her scanty draperies 
about her, and hugging her rope, she scurried 
through the hallways leading to her own apart- 
ments, and burst in upon Aurea. 

“My goodness !” cried that startled young lady, 
“what have you been doing to yourself ?” 

“Aurea, if it were a question between your own 
papa and your lover, would you hesitate?” asked 
Sapphire, breathlessly. 

“The girl who would not sacrifice her own papa 
on the altar of true love would certainly be a 
heartless wretch,” replied Aurea. 

“Sacrifice?” 

“Certainly. I would deem it proper to sacrifice 
a thousand papas to gain one fleeting smile from 
my atrocious but irresistible Bill.” 

“You dear, good girl, what a comfort you are.” 

She hurriedly unfolded her plot to Aurea and 
then flew to her telephone to communicate with 
Demos. O, horror ! The instrument was out of 


*62 


The Monarch of Millions. 

order and would not work — and time was so 
precious. “I must go to him,” she cried. 

“Your father will find it out.” 

“He must not do so. I must travel in dis- 
guise. Let me think.” 

To think was to act. Aurea must accompany 
her. Both must wear male apparel — the costumes 
of young Nobles. Fortunately she had several 
suits which had been used in private theatricals. 

“Of course we must cut off our hair,” she said. 

“O, I couldn’t think of it,” cried Aurea, “it’s 
so very unfashionable.” 

“If we succeed, we shall set the fashion,” was 
the convincing reply. This gained Aurea’s ac- 
quiescence. 

The scissors did their work. A close-cropped 
golden head soon nodded to an equally close- 
cropped black head. 

“Doesn’t it feel funny?” asked Aurea. 

“I haven’t time to think how it feels.” 

The suits were produced and put on, the cloaks 
adjusted as skilfully as could be to hide all round- 
ed outlines, and never did two more charming 
gallants sally forth, on high adventure bent. 

As they left the palace a thought struck the 
Princess. 

“There’s your hideous affinity — a person so 

S63 


The Monarch of Millions. 


repulsive would make an excellent escort. Would 
he go with us?” 

“He would do anything for a cash considera- 
tion.” 

“Can you find him at this hour?” 

“Certainly. In fact he is waiting for me. I 
didn’t like to mention it before — you seemed so 
busy.” 

They hastened toward the widow’s premises. 

The Anarchist was still in the garden, a prey 
to dreadful uneasiness. When he saw two forms 
approach and heard his name called he was sure 
his time had come. With a laudable desire to 
conciliate his captors, he stepped forward to 
meet them. 

“Bear witness,” he remarked, “that I offer no 
resistance. On such occasions I am a man of 
peace.” 

“How delightfully unpleasant,” said Aurea 
admiringly. 

“Coward!” said Sapphire, contemptuously. 

His stupefaction on discovering the identity 
of his visitors had for a moment deprived him 
of speech, but at the word “coward” he revolted. 

“You don’t know what you are talking about,” 
he said. “I thought you were policemen,,” 

“And if we had been ?” 

*64 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“1 should have been run in! Tis an awful 
doom — the ever present nightmare of all Anar- 
chists.” 

He fished out a much-soiled handkerchief and 
mopped his brow. Sapphire explained to him 
that she wished him to accompany them to New 
York to seek Demos, offering him reasonable pay 
for his time. 

“Are you out for a lark?” he asked, with a 
villainous wink. 

“Miserable wretch !” cried the Princess, “it is 
a matter of life or death.” 

“Dearest,” murmured Aurea, “it is only his 
painfully playful wit.” 

On ascertaining that he was not to run any per- 
sonal danger, and stipulating that he should re- 
tain the privilege of instant flight from police- 
men, he consented to join the party. 

It was now past two in the morning. They re- 
paired to the nearest public airship station and 
found that the next ship flew at three o’clock. 
Reserving seats in that conveyance, they passed 
the intervening hour as best they could. The 
Anarchist, at the lunch counter, poured in a 
steady stream of beer at the expense of the Prin- 
cess. Aurea watched him with frightened fas- 
cination. Sapphire walked restlessly to and fro, 
165 


The Monarch of Millions. 


impatient of the slightest delay, distracted with 
doubts, yet buoyed up with hope. In her mas- 
culine dress one could detect in her a vague like- 
ness to the Emperor, not in form or feature cer- 
tainly, but in that intangible something which for 
lack of a better name is called family resemblance. 
Like her father, she seemed to breathe an atmo- 
sphere of command and confidence. Maidenly 
diffidence had vanished with her robes. She was 
ready to challenge, to combat, to conquer. 

Three o’clock came at last. There were some 
fifty passengers besides our party. The electric 
trumpet sounded, the great flanges revolved, they 
shot far up into the summer night, cleaving the 
air with wings of lightning. 


m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Demos had listened to the midnight chimes 
with a certain uneasiness. But twenty-four hours 
of liberty were now left to him. His word was 
pledged to appear before the Emperor on the 
first of August, and what would be his fate? 
Would an aroused and enlightened public opinion 
force the monarch to do him justice? He dared 
not hope it. True, his speeches were now re- 
ceived with respect and widely advertised. His 
autograph was assiduously sought for, invita- 
tions to dinners and other social functions poured 
in on him, photographers took his pictures free 
of cost, managers of theatres sent him boxes and 
he had been invited to umpire a game of baseball. 
Social eminence he had attained, but how did that 
help? He could not see that his apostleship had 
produced any practical results. The Empire, 
splendid and impregnable, granted him good- 
humored tolerance. He was, of course, ignorant 
of the vast machinations of Vangold, who had 
*67 


The Monarch of Millions. 


secretly supported him while preparing his great 
coup. 

Then he thought of Sapphire, and of the vague 
hopes she had persistently encouraged. Might 
she not be mistaken? Might not her father be 
deluding her to avoid trouble and keep peace in 
the family? Such suspicions of the Emperor 
were not unwarrantable, and if true, they meant 
death — sudden, official and ignominious death. 
Surely he was in an unpleasantly awkward fix. 

He had recourse to his telephone, but could 
get no response. His instrument was all right; 
it was Sapphire’s which was out of order. Bed 
was not to be thought of, and he paced his room 
restlessly; guilty, even, of doubting the Princess. 
Why was she silent? Had she, too, forsaken 
him? Time sped on all too swiftly for the poor 
youth who, as each hour struck, could not but 
ask himself, “Shall I ever hear it again?” He 
felt that he could be very heroic before others, 
but heroism is difficult to cultivate when all alone, 
in the dead of night, in a hotel bed-room. Most 
heroes demand audiences. 

About ten minutes past three there came a 
knock at his door. 

“Who’s there?” he cried. 

"I,” 

*68 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“Who is T?” 

“Open the door, quick — that is, if you are pre- 
sentable.” 

He turned the key and a very fashionably 
dressed young Noble jumped in, closing the door 
behind him. Demos felt that this was something 
of a liberty. 

“Explain this intrusion, sir,” he said sternly. 

“O ! you don’t know me ?” 

“Certainly not.” 

The young Noble removed his hat, disclosing 
to the astonished Demos the adorable face of 
Sapphire. With a cry of delight he pressed her 
to his breast and kissed her yielding lips. For 
a little space no words passed between them. It 
was enough to look, to touch, to embrace. Then 
the strangeness of her attire struck him, and the 
absence of her beautiful, thick hair. He laid his 
hand softly on the short sunny curls, so charm- 
ingly piquant and boy-like. His eyes ran over 
the cloak, the coat, the breeches, the boots — good 
heavens! had he fallen into a doze? Was this a 
tantalizing dream from which he must awaken? 
If so, he would make hay while the sun shone, 
and he clasped her to him so roughly that she 
uttered a little cry of pain, which brought him 
to his senses. 


S69 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“It is really you, then?” 

“It is really I” 

Her eyes were brilliant with excitement, her 
cheeks were glowing. To look at her was an 
inspiration ; to hear her, an intoxication ; to kiss 
her, a delirium. She was love incarnate. At 
the thought that he might lose her, Demos grew 
enraged and fell to raving. Yes, he would have 
her at any cost, he would fly with her beyond 
the Emperor’s power, he would fling his mission 
and his honor to the dogs. She must be his, 
and the maddened youth flung himself down be- 
fore her, clasping her by the knees, kissing her 
very boots, and behaving altogether in an utterly 
absurd fashion. 

“Be reasonable,” she said, with a touch of pity 
in her voice. “Should I be here and masquerad- 
ing thus, unless it were to save you ?” 

He jumped to his feet with a great oath that 
shocked her. He cursed the Empire, he cursed 
his mission, he even cursed Liberty. O ! do not 
blame him. The wisest and the greatest of man- 
kind have had such hours and the world forgives 
them — nay, admires them. Paris wars for Helen, 
Leander braves the Hellespont, Abelard suffers 
nameless ignominy, Antony throws away a world, 
and not a man, and still more not a woman, but 
MO 


The Monarch of Millions. 


feels for them a secret admiration and a sneaking 
sympathy. So let our poor Demos be pardoned 
his rude outburst, for he, too, was burning with 
the sacred fire. 

She waited till his fit of fury had spent itself. 
Then she said, “You shall win me, love, if you 
will ; and you shall fulfill your mission.” 

“But how?” 

“That is what I have come to tell you.” 

He listened eagerly to her story and she told 
him all — how the Emperor had been secretly 
abetting him and why — how he had intended to 
abdicate and permit their marriage — how he had 
suddenly changed his mind for some unknown 
but evidently very potent reason — and of his 
present inflexible determination that Demos must 
die. 

“We had better make a run for it,” said Demos. 

“That would be foolish. Wherever we went 
his arms are long enough to reach us. I have 
thought of a most simple but effective plan.” 

“And that is?” 

“To kidnap papa.” 

Genius goes straight to the point, because 
genius is simplicity. Demos was dumfounded 
at so easy a solution of his troubles. 

“Can he be kidnapped?” he asked. 

M\ 


The Monarch of Millions. 


She explained to him the construction of the 
Emperor’s office and how it could be reached by 
the air-shaft. She told him how she had climbed 
to the grating and slid back the bolt. There was 
not one chance in a thousand that its displace- 
ment would be observed. 

“You did that — and for me?” 

“For whom else should I?” 

The enraptured youth could find no answer 
save the mute eloquence of love’s caresses. As 
soon as he would allow it, she let him know that 
Aurea and the Anarchist were downstairs and 
that it would be well for them to assist in the 
conspiracy. They were sent for and came right 
up. Demos felt no surprise when he saw Aurea 
as a slim and elegant young cavalier. He was 
past being surprised and was strangely elated, 
as if he had been drinking champagne. 

“Ha !” said the Anarchist, with a sardonic 
chuckle. “Do you realize that this is your last 
day?” 

“Possibly.” 

“Is it a comfortable sensation?” 

“My memory will survive, you know.” 

“There’s nothing in it.” 

“No,” said Aurea. “One cannot marry mem- 


172 


The Monarch of Millions. 

ory, or kiss memory, or sit on memory’s lap.” 
And she gazed sympathizingly at the Princess. 

“You’d better apply to me,” said Bill. “I deal 
in the universal panacea for social and personal 
ills, warranted to remove policemen, judges, em- 
perors, or anything, in a jiffy. A pound or two 
is enough to reform a nation. It’s the stuff ! the 
glorious stuff! Hurrah for dynamite!” 

“Your methods are unspeakably vile,” replied 
Demos. “Yet even you may be of use. Will yotf 
assist in a conspiracy?” 

“Ha! ha! Will I assist? Haven’t I been con- 
spiring all my life? What are you giving me?” 

“O, roaring, noble heart !” murmured Aurea. 

“It is proposed to kidnap the Emperor,” said 
Demos. 

“Hold on!” Bill interjected, “do I run any 
bodily risk?” 

“Certainly.” 

“Then count me out.” 

“What mean, yet seemly, prudence,” said 
Aurea. 

“What ruffianly cowardice,” cried Sapphire. 
“Refuse to aid us and with my own hands I will 
turn you over to the authorities who, to my cer- 
tain knowledge, are looking for you.” 

Placed between two fires, the Anarchist weak- 

m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


ened. He consented to become an active con- 
spirator, with the reservation that Demos should 
at all times take the lead and that at the first sign 
of personal danger he, Bill, should be at liberty 
to take to the woods. This was the best that 
could be done with him. 

“It’s all rot,” he summed up, “a little bit of 
dynamite is the proper thing. I’ll furnish the 
stuff if you’ll use it.” 

“Never!” cried Demos. “Explosives are the 
weapons of the coward. Kidnapping is legiti- 
mate warfare.” 

It was settled that they should wait till evening 
and fly to Washington in Demos’ airship. None 
of them, meanwhile, would leave the hotel. A 
room was secured for the Anarchist and one for 
the Princess and Aurea. The disguise of the girls 
was so perfect that whatever search might be 
made they had no fear of discovery. 

It was now nearly five o’clock, and in view of 
the work ahead, rest and sleep were essential. 
Bill marched off, disdaining Aurea’s attempt to 
bid him good-night, and Demos escorted the 
ladies to their apartment. 

“Be of good heart,” said Sapphire, as he left 
them. 


m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“I drink at the fountain of courage/’ he an- 
swered, with a farewell kiss. 

The girls retired quickly and Sapphire soon 
fell asleep. Aurea, however, was wakeful and 
lay watching her companion. All at once she 
was startled to feel the Princess’ arms about her 
neck. A smile of ineffable tenderness lit up the 
slumbering face. The closed eyes were dewy 
with a trace of tears. Her lips sought Aurea’s 
and clung to them, as she whispered in her dream, 
“O, my love, my lord !” Aurea lay perfectly still, 
smiling curiously. 


*75 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

When the Emperor returned to his office and 
found Sapphire gone, he was not displeased. 
Strife with his daughter was unpleasant to him. 
He reflected that a night’s rest would do her no 
harm and perhaps tend to bring her to a more 
reasonable frame of mind. Acquaintance with 
the inevitable softens its terrors. Moreover, he 
had much to do. His enormous interest in the 
world’s markets could not be suddenly changed; 
the operation must be a long and continuous one. 
He set about the preliminary movements at once, 
and it was six in the morning before he sought 
rest. Even Vangold was subject to the imperious 
laws of nature and it was noon before he awak- 
ened to a very busy day. He found the markets, 
under the influence of his orders, absolutely stag- 
nant — there was nothing to trouble him in that 
direction. He discharged a number of imperial 
duties which consumed the better part of the 
afternoon. He then gave consideration to the 
question of the millions of men who were to ar- 
rive in Washington the following day to demand 
176 


The Monarch of Millions. 


the restoration of the republic. After deep 
thought, he decided to let them come acording to 
programme. He would turn their presence into 
an ovation to himself by the lavish distribution of 
money. In the scenes that would ensue the exe- 
cution of Demos would be overlooked. 

About eighteen o’clock he received a visit from 
Porker, who came to report that all was in order 
for Demos’ removal. 

“Very good,” said the monarch, “the young 
man will doubtless arrive to-night. If he doesn’t 
come of his own free will, have him arrested and 
brought here. But wait till midnight. I have no 
fear of his disappointing us. He is a punctual 
and honorable youth.” 

When he sat down to dinner he enquired after 
Sapphire. He was told that she had been absent 
from the palace all day and had left no word of 
her whereabouts. 

“She has fled to her lover,” was his immediate 
conclusion. Hastily swallowing his meal he went 
to his office and telephoned to New York. A full 
report of Demos’ doings was transmitted to him. 
He had spent the day as usual — had made a 
couple of powerful speeches and was at that 
moment dining with two young Nobles. It was 
certain that no woman had called upon him. 

Ml 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“She cannot communicate with him by tele- 
phone, M he thought. “I had her instrument 
spoiled on purpose.” 

Much perturbed, he had the description and 
picture of Sapphire transmitted throughout the 
Empire, with instructions to report to him the 
moment she was discovered. The horrible sus- 
picion of suicide flashed through his mind, but 
he dismissed it at once. No Vangold would be 
guilty of so foolish an act, or if she were so in- 
sane she would wait till all hope were gone. 
“She is trying to devise some scheme to save 
him,” he said to himself. “Poor child — what a 
useless struggle. She will return when it is all 
over and I will study how to make her repara- 
tion.” 

He remained in his office hard at work. Even- 
ing fell, but it made no difference to him. His of- 
fice was alike at all hours. With indefatigable 
ardor he pursued his labors, the great brain work- 
ing clearly and precisely, for he never allowed 
anything to interfere with business. 

About twenty-one o'clock a small airship 
stopped at a considerable height above the palace. 
Telescopic scrutiny showed that the roof was de- 
serted and Sapphire indicated to Demos the ex- 
act location of the airshaft. The ship dropped 

m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


silently down. Demos alighted at the mouth of 
the shaft and peered through it. 

“Is there a light?” whispered Sapphire. 

“Yes.” 

“Listen.” 

Demos listened intently. Soon he heard the 
Emperor’s voice, very faint but quite distinct. 
He was evidently telephoning. This is what 
Demos heard: 

“You say that the young man left with an An- 
archist and two Nobles?” 

A pause. 

“One of the Nobles was my daughter?” 

A pause. 

“Who says so?” 

A pause. 

“Then the identification was positive?” 

A pause. 

“Notify all imperial airships. Surround 
Washington. Arrest the whole party, wherever 
found.” 

Click ! The instrument was hung up. 

Without an instant’s hesitation Demos, waving 
his hand to Sapphire, began the descent of the 
fixed ladder. He had taken the precaution to 
remove his boots and he went down as noiselessly 
as a cat. He reached the grating and peeped in. 
\79 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Vangold was sitting at his desk, his back toward 
the young man. In the twinkling of an eye De- 
mos rolled the grating open, leaped to the floor 
and jumped, panther-like, upon the monarch. 

“One outcry and you are a dead man!” he 
fiercely whispered. 

Then he discovered a strange thing. Vangold 
was a physical coward. He shook like a leaf and 
the color fled from his face, leaving his parti- 
colored cheeks ghastly to look at. For some 
seconds his teeth chattered and he was bereft of 
speech. Then the superb will reassumed do- 
minion over the trembling flesh and with imperial 
resolution he confronted the emergency. 

“I am ready to deal with you,” he said. 

“I am obliged to tie you up first,” said Demos, 
producing cords, with which he bound the Em- 
peror's hands and feet. 

“What do you propose to do?” 

“To kidnap you.” 

“You can never get me up that ladder/' 

“I have assistants.” 

Demos went to the bottom of the shaft and 
cried, “All’s well,” the agreed signal. Down 
came the Anarchist, followed by Sapphire and 
Aurea, who wore masks. 

“Ha !” roared Bill, “at last I gaze upon a pros- 

m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


trate monarch. Wretched tyrant! bloated bond- 
holder ! golden scum ! I spit upon you ! Prepare 
for the vengeance of Anarchy !” And he danced 
a rude unwieldy measure about the Emperor. 

“Silence !” said Demos. “Respect arfallen foe.” 

“He doesn’t respect me,” retorted the Anar- 
chist. “If he could he would run me in.” And 
he shook his fist under the Emperor’s nose. 

There was not the slightest expression on Van- 
gold’s face as he watched Bill, whom Demos now 
thrust aside, much to Sapphire’s relief. She* 
with Aurea, had retired to the other end of the 
office. No doubt the Emperor guessed the iden- 
tity of his daughter, but he gave no sign. 

“Sir,” said Demos to him, “I assure you I have 
no sympathy with this riotous person. It is with 
sincere regret that I am forced to use violence. 
But put yourself in my place. I am sure you 
would follow a similar line of conduct.” 

“You are acting quite naturally,” answered 
Vangold, calmly. “Every man for himself.” 

“And the devil take the hindmost,” growled 
the Anarchist. 

“My friend,” said the Emperor to Bill, “our 
systems of philosophy are in the main identical, 
only heretofore I have not been the hindmost. 
At the present time I certainly occupy that un- 

m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


pleasant position. Permit me to remark that I 
am very sensitive to the odor of garlic. You 
would much oblige me by retiring a few feet.” 

His cheerful audacity quite flustered the Anar- 
chist, who instinctively obeyed. 

“Of course,” he went on, addressing Demos, 
“you have the upper hand. When cornered you 
will find me a very reasonable person to deal 
with. Sensible people yield under proper pres- 
sure. Now to business. You, of course, wish 
to live.” 

“I do.” 

“Very good. I grant you your life. You prob- 
ably desire to wed my daughter?” 

“It is my dearest hope.” 

“Good again. You shall have her.” 

“But that is not enough.” 

“Young man,” said the Emperor severely, “be- 
ware of the vice of avarice.” 

“It is not enough,” repeated Demos. 

“O, suppose I throw in a lump sum — let us 
say a million.” 

He spoke authoritatively, as if he were on his 
throne and not at all like a bound captive. 

“You misunderstand,” said Demos, “and you 
ignore my sacred mission. Freedom must be 
restored to the American people.” 

*82 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“Tut, tut! Don’t talk nonsense/ 

“I am in very serious earnest. Refuse my 
conditions and you will be carried up that shaft 
to my airship and taken to a spot I know of in 
Alaska, where I shall keep you until you come 
to terms.” 

“Let me think a few minutes.” 

“Certainly.” 

Demos joined Sapphire and Aurea. The mon- 
arch ran the situation over rapidly in his mind. 
It was very critical. To be carried to Alaska 
might mean ruin. There was no telling what 
might happen in his absence. Porker and his fol- 
lowers might seize the opportunity to corner the 
markets, which would strip him of all he pos- 
sessed. He must at least appear to yield. On 
the other hand, Demos, powerful and free, would 
be a perpetual menace to him, which he could not 
endure. He must temporize, gain time, and trust 
to his wit to extricate himself from this predica- 
ment. But accident cut his meditations short. 

Bill, left alone near the helpless Emperor, could 
not restrain his anarchistic tendencies and pro- 
ceeded to pick his pockets. He was disgusted at 
the meagre yield. Less than four dollars in cash, 
a dilapidated pen-knife and a gold toothpick were 
all he found. Vangold had disdained to pay any 
*83 


The Monarch of Millions. 


attention to the marauder, but when the anarchist 
fished out a certain document from the breast 
pocket of the imperial coat he was much dis- 
turbed. 

“I protest !” he cried. “Return that document 
to me at once!” 

It was his father’s will. The anarchist rapidly 
ran over the document. 

“Hallo!” he shouted to Demos, “have you a 
chestnut on your left collar-bone ?” 

“I have. My father stamped it there in in- 
fancy.” 

“Then listen to this.” 

“I object,” interposed Vangold. 

“Overruled,” said Demos. 

The anarchist read : 

“This is the last will and testament of Vangold, 
Senior. A careful study of the courts has con- 
vinced me that wills properly drawn and depos- 
ited in fit places are inevitably broken. An 
equally careful study of contemporaneous fiction 
and the stage has convinced me that wills eccen- 
trically drawn and deposited in out-of-the-way 
places invariably turn up at the right moment. 
I shall deposit this copy under the chicken-coop 
in the back-yard. I shall deposit a duplicate in 
a yet more secret place which I shall not here 
J84 


The Monarch of Millions. 


disclose. May both be found. My son is ac- 
quainted with the fact that my wealth is not my 
own. I hold it in stewardship for another party 
who will rise up under the name of ‘Demos/ and 
who will bear upon his left collar-bone the im- 
print of a chestnut ” 

Here Demos snatched the will from the anarch- 
ist and read on in silence. It was quite plain. 
He was the real owner of the Vangold millions if 
the will were valid. How the situation arose is 
to this day a mystery. Imperfect records have 
been found of certain transactions between the 
grandfather of Demos and the father of Vangold. 
The latter probably made his peculiar will as a 
salve to his conscience, thinking it unlikely to 
ever turn up. The duplicate copy mentioned has 
never been found. Demos’ name would imply 
that his father had some inkling of the state of 
affairs, as also the imprint of the chestnut. 

“So all your wealth is mine,” said the youth to 
Vangold. 

“I am not prepared to concede the point.” 

“But this will?” 

“May not be worth the paper it is written on. 
Besides, you die in a few hours and under the 
laws of the Empire I am the heir of all persons 
who die intestate.” 


185 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“You forget that you are in my power.” 

The Emperor smiled. “You have wasted 
time,” he said. “By now the imperial air-fleet 
encircles the capital. You can never break 
through. I shall be rescued.” 

The anarchist took a small object from his 
trousers’ pocket and proffered it to Demos — 
“Partner,” he said, “finish the job. This is a 
clockwork bomb.” 

“Never,” cried Demos. “If I must die I will 
die — but not intestate.” 

“I shall take care that you make no will.” 

“I herewith make a verbal will, before com- 
petent witnesses. I bequeath all I own to the 
American people.” 

“Bah! How could such a will be enforced?” 

“By the force I have awakened and that will 
grow — Public Opinion.” 

“Which I will lead in your place if you are 
slain !” cried Sapphire, flinging her mask away 
and coming to Demos, who placed his arm about 
her waist. 

They formed a pretty picture as they fronted 
the Emperor. He, strong and sturdy, the son of 
the plain people; she, cultured and refined, the 
daughter of the rich; both roused to noble pur- 
pose at the voice of love. 

186 


The Monarch of Millions. 

“So you are of the enemy,” said Vangold to his 
daughter, with a touch of sadness. 

“O, father ! listen to the voice of love !” 

Again the Emperor thought long and hard. 
He could restore an immense fortune to Demos 
and still, by carrying out his original plans in the 
markets, remain the richest of all. At least, 
Porker and the Nobles would be bankrupt, which 
was a very consoling thought. 

Demos went to him and untied the cords which 
bound him, throwing them away. 

“Sir,” he said, “you are free to do as you 
please.” 

The faint habitual smile returned to the Em- 
peror’s face. He walked to the telephone and or- 
dered Porker and the Cabinet to report to him at 
once. 

“I have decided upon this,” he said to Demos, 
“the amount due you would be the subject of 
endless litigation. I will offer you a couple of 
billions in full settlement.” 

“I will accept it for distribution among the 
people.” 

“You shall marry Sapphire.” 

Here the Princess flung herself into her 
father’s arms. 

“The Republic shall be restored to-morrow — 

*87 


The Monarch of Millions. 


provided — mark me well — provided that I be 
allowed to carry on my customary business with- 
out molestation.” 

“I have no desire to interfere with your private 
affairs,” said Demos. “Your propositions are ac- 
ceptable.” 

“But where do I come in?” questioned the 
Anarchist. 

“O, you ?” answered Demos. “Something 
must be done for you. Despite your atrocious 
views you have been of real service to me and to 
the people. You shall have a million.” 

“And you shall have me !” cried Aurea. 

“A million!” roared Bill. “Thunder and 
lightning! With a million I can no longer be an 
Anarchist !” 

“And with me you must become clean and 
shave those hideous whiskers,” said Aurea. 

Porker and the Secretaries entered. 

“Gentlemen,” said the Emperor, “to-morrow I 
abdicate the throne. The financial Empire will 
terminate — the Republic will be restored.” 

Porker fainted. The Secretaries caught him 
as he fell. 

“Carry him out,” said the Emperor, “Fll teach 
you folks to bull the markets against me.” 

Without a word they went, dragging the limp 

m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


form of the Swineherd after them. This cool as- 
sumption of their antagonism was too much for 
them. They did not even dare to reproach him. 

“I must ask to be left alone,” he said. “ I have 
a great deal to do before morning.” 

They left him and he fell to work calmly and 
methodically. There would be no hesitation on 
his part. Empires might fall, fortunes be shat- 
tered, but he would walk his imperial way un- 
scathed, impassive, so long as money held out and 
men and things were at the auction block. 


\Z9 


The Monarch of Millions. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

What American heart does not swell at the 
mention of the First of August? Not even the 
Fourth of July is more endowed with glory. 

The first memorable First, that of 1950, was 
born amid the flare of lightning and the rattle of 
thunder, but by noon the storm had spent its force 
and sunny skies smiled down on Washington. 

From early dawn great fleets of airships had 
been landing passengers in the capital until five 
millions were gathered within its borders. This 
mighty army, impressed with the teachings of 
Demos, had come to demand liberty. Very few 
were aware of the part Vangold had played in 
this continental drama. The vast majority were 
filled with a sincere desire to assert American 
manhood and throw off the yoke of money. 
Gathered in orderly ranks they centered about the 
Capitol, where imperial Congress was sitting, 
hastily summoned by the Emperor. No Nobles 
were in the immense crowd. Anarchists, also, 
were conspicuous by their absence. It was an as- 
190 


The Monarch of Millions. 


semblage of the people,, with farmers and artisans 
as the dominant elements. Called to order as a 
mass meeting, various speeches were made, which 
by phonographic repetition were audible to all. 
A resolution was finally passed calling upon the 
Emperor, in the name of the people, to resign his 
office, and another, calling upon the Congress to 
dissolve. There were no threats, no reproaches. 
Nothing could be more majestic than this tem- 
perate expression of the popular will. The 
spirit of this proud people, so long enthralled in 
sordid chains, had awakened from its trance at 
the call of an earnest voice — with no apparent 
effort the bonds were burst asunder, as at the 
stretch of giant limbs. Men spoke again of 
Washington and Lincoln and forgot Vangold. 

Within the Capitol Imperial Congress sat 
quaking with fear. Vangold himself presided in 
full regalia. Upon his right, a seat had been pro- 
vided for Demos, who was thus acknowledged as 
the Ambassador of the nation to its self-imposed 
rulers. 

It was noticed that messengers kept bringing 
telegrams to the Emperor and that however im- 
portant the business on hand might be, he stopped 
to read them. Whatever they referred to nothing 

19 \ 


r 


The Monarch of Millions. 


could be read in his face which, as usual, defied 
scrutiny. 

Porker had plucked up spirit to present a reso- 
lution calling upon the “mob” to disperse. The 
Emperor blandly called for a seconder, but no one 
responded and the resolution fell still-born. 

“Gentlemen,” said the Emperor, “as men of 
property you must agree with me that anything is 
preferable to national disorder. Personally I 
care nothing for the pomp of office which has 
always been a burden to me, taking up more of 
my time than I could well afford, and I shall be 
glad to accommodate the people by resigning 
if they so wish it. My advice to all of you is to 
get in out of the wet. 

“For office we probably care as little as you,” 
said Porker, “but how about the markets? Your 
abdication will be demoralizing.” 

A chorus of indignant approbation greeted this 
speech. 

“Such of us as are on the wrong side will have 
to suffer,” replied Vangold, placidly, “it is the 
fortune of war, as we all know.” 

“But what side are you on?” was shouted at 
him all over the Chamber. 

“I am on the Vangold side.” 

The reply was sphynx-like. Men looked at 

192 


The Monarch of Millions. 


each other still in doubt. Was he with them or 
against them? If the former there was still 
hope — if the latter 

The committee from the mass-meeting entered 
the hall. It was observed that they kept on their 
hats. Their spokesman read the first resolution. 

“Gentlemen,” said the Emperor, “I cheerfully 
comply with the wish of my countrymen. Twill 
shortly step outside and publicly abdicate. You 
will kindly furnish a notary, at your own expense, 
to attest my deed. I think that is fair.” 

The second resolution was then read. 

“Gentlemen,” said the Emperor, addressing the 
Congress, “you have heard the wish of the 
people. Is it your pleasure to dissolve?” 

An angry debate ensued. Porker and his im- 
mediate followers were for holding on at any cost. 
The mass-meeting was called a put-up job. 
Dark hints and inuendoes, aimed at the Emperor, 
flew about the Chamber, to which Vangold was 
entirely indifferent. He was getting telegrams 
now at the rate of about ten a minute. Leaning 
over to Demos, he whispered, gaily, “Son-in-law, 
the panic has started.” 

Demos jumped to his feet. 

“Brawling fools,” he cried, “for what are you 
striving? To keep your detestable wealth, the 
t93 


The Monarch of Millions. 


spoil of the people? Even while you wrangle it 
is taking wings unto itself — yea, it is melting at 
the breath of Panic.” 

This terrible word, hurled into the midst of 
their debate, struck the Nobles speechless. Tele- 
grams for Porker and others began to come in. 
The awful news spread quickly and they scur- 
ried out of the Chamber, not, however, until a 
motion had been put to dissolve, which in the ab- 
sence of any dissentient vote, Vangold declared 
carried. It must be recorded, though, that no 
affirmative vote was cast. 

The committee returned to the mass-meeting to 
report success and await the imperial appearance. 

Left alone with Demos, Vangold explained to 
him that the outer shell of the capitol was his — 
Vangold’s — personal property and that it was 
easily removable. It was wired all over inside 
and connected with a dynamo. At the touch of 
a button it would fold up and disappear in layers. 
As it was very valuable, Vangold said he could 
not afford to let it remain. Demos suggested that 
he touch the button at the close of his speech of 
abdication, adding that it would be a fitting and 
poetic termination of the ceremony, to which the 
monarch agreed. 

More telegrams came in. 

m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


“The way the market? are going I shall be able 
to buy up your entire Republic before to-morrow 
night/’ remarked the Emperor. 

“I am sorry to hear it. A social system that 
allows such accumulations is all wrong.” 

“Tut, tut, my boy ! When you are as old as I 
am, you will know better. Besides, it will all 
be Sapphire’s some day.” 

“Then it will all go back to the people.” 

“To be in turn re-gathered by some imitator of 
myself.” 

“There must be a way out of it,” concluded 
Demos. 

“Find it, if you can. But at present find Sap- 
phire and let us play our parts.” 

Demos entered the Emperor’s room behind the 
Chamber, where Sapphire, Aurea and the Anarch- 
ist were waiting. Bill was washed and shaven 
and had on clean clothes. The transformation 
was startling. Though still horribly ugly, he 
now showed signs of possible respectability. 
Time might yet make him a decent member of 
society. Aurea clung to his arm affectionately, 
quite proud of the change for the better. 

Following the Emperor, the little party went 
out upon the steps of the capitol. The monarch 
was received in silence, but mighty cheers arose 
*95 


The Monarch of Millions. 

for Demos and the Princess. No one recognized 
Bill. 

The Emperor spoke : 

“Citizens — For a year I have transacted busi- 
ness as your Emperor and I will say, frankly, it 
has been a paying job. But it has also been a risky 
job and I am not sorry to retire from duty. My 
books of account I leave for public inspection — 
you will find all transactions accurately set forth. 
I am afraid you won’t find things much cheaper 
after I’m gone, though I suppose cheapness is 
what you are after. But that is your affair, not 
mine. I shall continue private business at the old 
stand and solicit your patronage, pledging myself 
to do as well by you as any of my competitors — 
perhaps a little better, as I shall have some ad- 
vantage in the matter of capital. It may interest 
you to learn that my daughter is going to marry 
your young leader, Demos, who I hope will de- 
velop into a steady man of business. If he 
doesn’t it will not be for lack of example. I now 
take off my crown, which I shall keep, because I 
paid for it, and I lay down my sceptre, which I 
shall leave, because it is public property, and I 
declare the American Empire terminated. You 
will attend yourselves to the necessary forms for 
the re-establishment of the Republic. As a pri- 
\96 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Vale citizen, I tender you my services. I am quite 
an expert in reorganization.’* 

He stopped. Not a sound was heard in reply. 
He smiled and said to Demos in a low voice, 
“Don’t mistake that canaille for patriots. All I 
have to do is to raise my price a little and I can 
buy them back in a week.” 

“I don’t believe it.” 

Vangold shrugged his shoulders and touched 
the button of the dynamo. The outer shell of the 
capitol, from the statue at the top, began to fold 
up and sink down. A muffled sound like a sigh, 
swept over the countless throng as the old capitol, 
white and virginal, came into view, with Liberty 
crowning the dome. The imperial flags fluttered 
down, and over the historic pile rose the bright 
flag of freedom, the glorious Stars and Stripes. 

A great cry rose from the multitude. “Old 
Glory ! Old Glory !” they shouted. Men wept 
and danced as if crazy at the sight of their be- 
loved banner. 

“There is my answer to you,” said Demos to 
the ex-Emperor, and his heart throbbed with love 
for the people. He lifted his hand for silence. 
He bared his head and bowed to the flag. Then 
he spoke : 

“O, beautiful banner of the free that leaped to 

\?7 


The Monarch of Millions. 


life amid the roar of battle ! Emblem of liberty 
for all mankind ! Long didst thou float above 
storm and strife through primeval forest and sav- 
age wilderness, till thou wast hailed of all a 
Nation’s flag! Under thy shining folds what 
mighty throngs marched westward in the peaceful 
conquest of a continent, their arms the axe and 
plough, their faith that all men are born free and 
equal. Yet hast thou waved over other scenes — 
scenes of wild war, where brother fought with 
brother, when thou didst ride on high the hope 
of freemen. And the glory of the victor was 
equalled only by the valor of the vanquished, and 
they who were conquered learned to love thee 
with a love stronger than of old, so gracious is 
thy presence, so benign thy meaning. And thou 
hast fronted foreign foes and brought liberty to 
the oppressed. Flag of freedom ! flag of justice ! 
flag of peace ! flag of love ! may thy stars forever 
shine in the vault of nations with the light of 
hope! may thy stripes forever blaze as sun-rays, 
kindling the fires of liberty to imperishable life !” 

His voice died away amid the breathless silence 
of the listening throng. Then came such cheers 
as were never heard before. They seized him 
and lifted him upon their shoulders. “Come, my 
darling!” he cried to Sapphire, and in a moment 

m 


The Monarch of Millions. 


she was placed by his side. Down the great 
avenue they carried him and men fought for the 
privilege of touching his hand or his garments 
because of his worship of the flag and his love of 
Liberty. It was evening before they would let 
him go. At last he found himself alone with 
Sapphire, in the ex-palace. 

“O, how proud I am of my hero 1” she said. 

“A man is just as much of a hero,” he replied, 
“as the woman he loves will let him be.” 

Vangold came in. 

“Accept my congratulations,” said the ex- 
Emperor. “Your people will come higher than I 
thought.” 


\99 


The Monarch of Millions. 


EPILOGUE. 

About a week after the events recorded in this 
veracious chronicle, an airship hung motionless 
at a great height above a spot on Jones River, 
Alaska. Its occupants were Demos and Sap- 
phire. It was a little past nineteen o’clock. At 
twelve o’clock they had been married in Washing- 
ton. For some hours they had idled over the 
continent at an altitude far above the usual 
routes, so that they might be completely alone. 

She was all in white, as on the day when first 
he saw her, but no jewels hid the beauty of her 
arms and bosom. Her short curls still gave her 
an air of piquancy which contrasted oddly with a 
certain gracious submissiveness, even timidity, 
which was quite new to her. 

Demos looked in vain for the royal maiden 
who had so often awed him. Sapphire was sur- 
prised to find her rough lover very gentle and shy. 
The fact is both were a little embarrassed. 

Sometimes he would stop the airship and kneel 
softly at her feet and fold his arms about her, 
200 


The Monarch of Millions. 


but as she always remained passive and even 
seemed to shrink away from him he would 
quickly arise with a remark about the weather or 
some other exciting topic. Then they would sit 
silent, side by side, watching the immense blue 
arch of heaven, over which white fleecy clouds 
languidly drifted, melting as they passed the sun. 
Then he would start the ship and take a whirl of 
a few thousand miles, but always at a height 
where none would meet them, and from which 
the earth looked curved. 

At times they would try ordinary conversation. 

“I hope Aurea will be happy/’ she would say. 

“Yes — but he is so repulsive.” 

“It doesn’t matter if she loves him.’ 

“Doesn’t it ? How do you know ?” 

For answer a look that made him giddy. 

Or again: 

“How awfully rich Papa must be.” 

“Yes.” 

“Almost all the old Nobles are bankrupt.” 

“I’m glad of it.” 

“Mr. Porker is going to live with his daugh- 
ter.” 

“Of course. On the Anarchist’s million.” 

“And those poor members of the Cabinet; 
they’ve started a retail grocery store.” 

20 * 


The Monarch of Millions. 

'They will sand their sugar.” 

The fact that these attempted conversations 
told nothing new to either of them is proof posi- 
tive that they were the merest shams. Indeed 
Demos was thinking all the time, "How beautiful 
she is ! But why so cold ?” And Sapphire was 
thinking, "He used not to be so distant.” But 
neither was deluded by the thought. 

He was to show her the spot where the vision 
of her face had first apeared to him, but he wished 
to wait till night that the scene might be exactly 
reproduced. So they loitered in the aerial soli- 
tudes which not even a bird invaded, alone in 
the heart of vast and soundless space. At last 
the sun slid down behind the far Pacific, which 
appeared to them as a bluish convex, devoid of 
motion. An immense fan of golden rays fol- 
lowed the sun’s disappearance, fading to yellow 
and then to purple, vanishing gradually till no 
shadow of light remained, and darkness covered 
the earth. Overhead the stars grew luminous. 
It was night. 

Speechless with expectant joy, Demos looked 
at Sapphire. "Come,” he whispered. She went 
to him and wound her arms about his neck and 
he clasped her to him, thrilled with devouring 


202 


The Monarch of Millions. 

love and fervent thankfulness. “Let us descend,” 
he said. 

The airship dropped down and they alighted on 
the bank of the river. 

“My home,” said Demos, pointing out a log 
cabin, scarce visible in the faint starlight. 
“Here, on such a night as this, the vision of your 
face first smiled on me.” 

“It was no vision, love,” she answered; “in 
some strange, hypnotic way, to us unknown, you 
saw myself.” 

“What matters it? That I have found you is 
enough.” 

He showed her his childish haunts and they 
stood reverently by the grave of his parents. 
Then they wandered hand-in-hand along the 
river shore. 

“Darling,” he murmured, “it grows late. 
Shall we return to the capital?” 

, “Why not stay here?” she shyly replied. 

“Here?” 

“O, can’t you understand ?” she cried. “There 
is no spot on earth so dear to me as this.” 

He led her to the cabin and they entered, clos- 
ing the door behind them. 

Outside the river murmured and the stars 
shone as if nothing particular were going on. 

203 


The Monarch of Millions. 


Good bye, dear lovers. Now must we part. 
Never again will such a sweet night glow for you. 
We will borrow your airship and fly away, as we 
know you would have us do, leaving to you the 
old log-cabin, glorified by your gracious presence 
into a Holy Temple of Love. 


fTHE END. 


204 


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OCT 3 1900 















































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NEELY’S POPULAR LIBRARY 


The MONARCH 

OF 

MILLIONS 


THE RISE AND FALL 

of the AMERICAN EMPIRE 

BY 

GROSVENOR WILSON 



THE NEELY COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 

114 FIFTH AVENUE, N"'< YORK 




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